OLD 
PLANTATION 


HBBHHHWfflWBI^^BHBHHHHWHi 


A 


COL.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  FLOWERS 
MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
DURHAM,  N.  C. 


PRESENTED  BY 

W.  W.  FLOWERS 


Old  Plantation  Days 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/oldplantationday01giel 


Old 

Plantation  Days 


MARTHA  S.  GIELOW 

Author  of 
"  Mammy's  Reminiscences/' 
etc.,  etc. 


R.    H.  RUSSELL 

1902 


Copyright,  1908,  by  Robert  Howard  Russell 


First  Impression,  October,  1902 


9  7  <o,  I  0%  3 

To  the  Memory  op 

IFAostf  no&Ztf  life  was  my  guide  and  whose 
loving  pride  in  me  was  my  inspiration,  I 
inscribe  these  simple  stories  of  the  "Mammy" 
who  laid  me  first  within  those  precious  arms 
that  never  tired,  against  the  faithful  heart 
that  never  wearied  in  its  devotion. 

Martha  S.  Gielow. 


"44978 


Contents 


Page 

Mammy  Speaks   ix 

Mammy  Joe  and  the  Old  Home     .    .    .    .  13 

Lookin'  fer  Marse  Willie   29 

Dat  Chile   47 

Uncle  Tom's  Matrimonial  Difficulties    .    .    .  59 

Ole  Bline  Hannah   69 

Plantation  Sermon   83 


A  Brief  Sketch  of  Mammy  Joe  and  her  Ac- 
count of  the  Sinking  of  the  Merrimac  .  93 

Mammy  Tilly's  Visit  to  the  City    .    .    .  .101 

Aunt  Roxy  Ann,  an'  de  Apple-Tree  .    .  .111 

How  Sis1  Mandy  an1  her  Dog  Pinchey  got 

'Ligion  119 

Mammy's  Receipt  for  Making  Alabama  Velvets  127 

Go  ter  Sleep  on  Mammy's  Bre's'    .    .    .  .131 

[  ™  ] 


244975 


CONTENTS 

Page 

Mammy's  Luck  Charm  fer  de  Bride  .  .  .135 
Mammy's  Receipt  fer  Aig- Braid     .    .    .  .139 

De  Chris'mus  Baby  145 

Little  Sweet  Ladie  147 

On  my  Journey  Home  153 

Come  Ring  dem  Charmin'  Bells  .  .  .  .159 
Wheel  in  de  Middle  o'  de  Wheel  ....  163 

Plantation  Funeral  Song  167 

Oh,  Lawd,  Am'  dem  Lobely  171 

Oh,  Ma'y,  don'  you  Weep  175 

Note  by  the  Author  179 


[  viii  ] 


Mammy  Speaks 


"  ~1  ^  F  de  Lawd  takes  keer  uv  eben  de  li'l  teeny, 
weeny  sparrers,  honey,  den  we-all  what 

*  *  is  created  in  His  'zac'  hkeness  shouldn' 
'spute  de  jestice  uv  His  laws.  De  Lawd  He  wucks 
in  myster'ous  ways. 

"  When  I  sets  hyar  an'  looks  out  upon  de 
changes,  hit  seem  all  wrong — an'  sometimes  hit 
seem  lak  de  Marster  done  fergit  us  all — an'  mos' 
pertic'lar  dem  what  is  ole  an'  no  'count — what  ain' 
got  nobody  'sponsible  fer  'um  dese  days.  But  den, 
dat's  des  de  debble  er  temptin'  uv  me.  I  knows  dat 
He  do  keer.  Yas,  chile,  He's  boun'  ter  keer.  Don' 
you  s'posen  dat  yo'  ole  Mammy  is  des  as  much  o' 
'count  ter  de  Lawd  as  dem  li'l  no  'count  snowbirds, 
an'  dat  ole  raid-haided  woodpecker  out  dar  on  de 
tree,  an'  dem  ole  cawin'  crows  what's  eatin'  up  de 
corn?  Ob  co'se  I  is!  Ef  He  keers  fer  dem,  He 
sho'  gwine  keer  fer  me.  De  Lawd  never  fersakes 
dem  what's  got  f  aif . 

"  Sometimes,  honey,  de  debble  he  whispers  ter 
me,  an'  says :  4  Sis'  Joanna,  f aif  is  fer  dem  what's 
got  all  dey  wants ;  f  aif  ain'  gwine  fill  you  wid  vid- 
dles  when  you  is  hongry,  ef  you  sets  hyar  an'  waits 
[ix] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


fer  it;  you  got  to  go  fetch  it,  an'  if  you  ain'  able 
ter  fetch  it,  you  ain'  gwine  git  it.'  Den  I  ses  ter 
de  whisper :  4  Go  way  f 'urn  hyar,  Mister  Satan. 
Br'er  Lija'  had  faif  an'  de  ravens  brunged  him 
food,  an'  dem  chillun  gwine  fetch  me  some'n  'fo' 
long;  dey,  de  ravens  what  God  gwine  sen'  me,  an' 
sho'  nuff,  hyar  you  is  wid  er  baskit  full  er  de  fat 
uv  de  lan'.  You  is  er  snow-white  raven,  honey ;  de 
ve'y  bird  uv  Parydise,  an'  you  gwine  hab  sho'  nuff 
gole  wings  when  you  die  an'  er  sho'  nuff  gole  hyarp 
ter  play  on  an'  sho'  nuff  gole  slippers  an'  er  sho' 
nuff  gole  crown  fer  ter  wear.  I  done  seed  all  dat 
de  day  you  wuz  borned.  I  done  felt  de  sperits  all 
roun'  me  when  I  fus'  helt  you  up  fer  yo'  Ma  ter 
look  at  you. 

"  Lawd !  Lawd !  but  it  do  seem  lak  'twuz  only 
yisterday  when  I  hyard  de  bell  ring  in  de  middle  uv 
de  night  fer  me  ter  come  to  de  house  ter  yo'  Ma. 
De  moon  wuz  des  gwine  down  when  I  git  ter  de  do' 
an'  seed  Br'er  Jim  gallup  off  fer  de  doctor  lak  de 
worl'  wuz  'bout  ter  come  to  er  een.  Sich  er  night 
I  never  wan'  ter  see  ergin.  Yo'  Pa  look  lak  he 
mos'  'stracted,  an'  we  all  wuz.  But  than'  God,  des 
erbout  sun-up,  I  hyard  you  cry  fer  de  fus'  time — 
de  ve'y  fus'  baby  cry  in  de  fam'ly.  Hit  soun' 
sweeter  dan  de  soun'  uv  music.    Lawd,  chile,  how 


r 


Mammy  Joe 


MAMMY  SPEAKS 


proud  we  all  wuz,  an'  you  weighed  mighty  nigh  ten 
pounds,  dat  you  did!  You  didn'  look  it;  but 
honey,  you  hollered  lak  you  wuz  as  big  an'  weigh' 
as  much  as  er  bale  er  cotton.  Yo'  Pa  wuz  too  proud 
ter  hoi'  in  when  he  hyard  you.  He  looked  at  you 
an'  say :  4  Dat  baby's  got  er  fine  pair  er  lungs,'  he 
say;  4  she  gwine  have  er  good  th'oat  fer  singinV 
De  doctor,  he  say,  4  Yas,  I  think  so,  an'  you  gwine 
fine  'er  putty  lively  comp'ny.'  Yo'  Ma  axed  me 
ve'y  easy  ef  I  didn'  reckon  you  had  de  colic. 
4  Law,  no'm,'  I  say ;  4  dey  ain'  nuffin  'tall  de  matter 
wid  dis  baby,  but  dat  she  wan'  some'n  ter  eat.  She 
done  tired  out  wid  gettin'  hyar.' 

"  I  never  will  f ergit  de  smile  dat  lighted  up  her 
face.  Hit  looked  ter  me  lak  es  ef  somebody  had 
suddenly  turned  on  er  light  'bove  'er  haid.  I  laid 
you  in  her  arms  whiles  I  fixed  you  er  li'l  spec  uv 
catnip  tea  ter  begin  on.  I  wan'  gwine  give  you  no 
sugar  rag;  I  don't  b'lieve  in  sugar  rags  fer  babies 
ter  dis  day.  An'  den,  honey,  you  wuz  sweet 
ernufF — dat  you  wuz — an'  you's  growed  sweeter 
all  de  time.  You  'minds  me  uv  dem  li'l  yaller  jes- 
mine  buds.  Dey  mighty  dainty  when  dey  fus' 
come,  but  when  dey  bus'  inter  full  bloom,  de  whole 
woods  is  filled  wid  sweetness. 

"  What  you  say?  Ter  be  sho',  you  kin  res'  yo' 
[xi] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


haid  in  my  lap.  Is  you  tired,  baby?  Well,  hit  do 
seem  lak  you  wuz  er  chile  ergin,  settin'  hyar  in  my 
ole  cabin,  right  on  de  ve'y  stool  what  you  usen  ter 
play  wid,  an'  er  feelin'  yo'  li'l  haid  so  close  ter  my 
arm.  Le'  me  tech  my  ole  fingers  onct  mo'  ter  de 
curls  uv  yo'  hair.  H — m,  how  fine  an'  silky  hit  do 
feel.  But  de  gole  dus'  what  I  usen  ter  say  dat  de 
angels  sprinkled  on  it  is  done  turned  ter  brown,  an' 
some  day  hit's  gwine  ter  turn  ergin  ter  silver.  Den 
you  gwine  be  ole  lak  me.  Den  de  Lawd  gwine  sen' 
er  dove  fer  to  keer  fer  his  li'l  bird  uv  Parydise  what 
brings  de  good  things  lak  de  ravens  ter  ole  Mammy. 
Yas,  res'  yo'  li'l  haid  on  my  lap,  an'  I  gwine  tell 
you  'bout  de  ole  times  befo'  de  war." 


[xii] 


II     I  ■HIHTTTWT'  mmMM— —■ M^^M^— VIA 

Mammy  Joe  and  the  Old 
Home 


Old  Plantation 


Days 

Mammy  Joe  and  the  Old  Home 

THOSE  who  have  never  known  a  Mammy 
can  have  but  little  conception  of  the  love 
that  existed  between  that  dear,  black  fos- 
ter-parent and  "  dem  chillun  what  she's  done 
raised."  Nor  can  they  realize  the  charm  of  list- 
ening to  the  tales  of  the  past  related  by  these  dear 
old  chroniclers  of  the  Old  South. 

As  time  vanishes,  the  hazy  distance  will  cast  a 
misty  but  glorious  halo  over  those  old  plantation 
days  that  are  no  more.  We  will  have  no  more 
Mammies  to  nurse  and  care  for  us,  and  to  tell  us  of 
the  "  gre't  house,"  and  the  wonderful  doings  of 
our  home-loving  ancestors.  We  will  hear  no  more 
the  tender  crooning  of  the  simple  lullabies  that 
charmed  us  to  rest ;  and  the  quaint  dialect  of  those 
days,  with  its  soft,  mellow  pathos,  will  be  a  thing 
of  the  past. 

In  one  of  the  comfortless  cabins  of  the  present 
conditions,  where  the  necessaries  of  life  are  brought 
[15] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


in  by  the  daily  toil  of  withered  hands,  lives  one  of 
the  old  nurses  who  are  passing. 

Mammy  Joe  has  always  lived  in  a  cabin,  but  not1 
such  a  one  as  she  occupies  to-day.  There  was  a 
day,  she  will  tell  you,  when  "  me  an'  Mistis  trabelled 
all  ober  de  lan',  an'  my  cabin  was  es  fine  es  a 
lady's ;"  and  as  she  sits  and  talks  of  the  old  times, 
her  eyes  grow  misty,  and  her  withered  hands  clutch 
nervously  at  her  apron  hem. 

"  Mistis  never  would  have  'lowed  me  ter  live  lak 
dis,  Miss  Ferginia,"  she  would  say ;  "  an'  de  chillun 
an'  de  gran'chillun  would  keer  fer  me  now  ef  dey 
could ;  dey  does  he'p  me  all  dey  kin,  but  it  ain'  lak 
it  wuz  in  de  ole  times. 

"  No  doctor's  bills  ter  pay  den,  no  rent  fer  de 
cabin  an'  fer  de  patch  fer  my  garden.  I  never 
was  hongry  an'  never  wanted  clo'es  to  w'ar,  an'  I 
had  fire  ter  set  by  when  'twas  cole,  widout  havin' 
ter  pay  fer  'um  all. 

"  An'  now  ter  see  de  White  House  lived  in  by 
strangers  f 'um  de  hills !  De  home  what  my  Mistis 
owned,  wid  piles  uv  niggers  ter  keer  fer  'er — hit 
seem  all  wrong.  Dem  new  sort  uv  white  folks  ain' 
got  no  biz'ness  in  Mistis'  house.  Dey  don'  seem 
nach'al  to  be  dar." 

Mammy  looks  far  across  the  cotton  field,  down 

[16] 


MAMMY  JOE  AND  THE  OLD  HOME 

the  avenue  of  walnut-trees  to  where  the  large  grove 
of  handsome  oaks  surrounds  the  old  place,  as  she 
pauses.  The  tall  pillars  supporting  the  front  gal- 
lery meet  her  gaze  like  faithful  sentinels.  They 
are  yellowed  with  time  and  neglect,  but  are  partly 
mantled  by  the  kindly  ivy,  whose  untrimmed  ten- 
drils have  formed  a  covering  for  the  decaying 
home. 

The  "  White  House  "  fronts  the  public  highway 
or  road  which  divides  the  plantation.  On  the  side 
of  the  road,  next  to  the  house  and  grove,  the  fence 
is  bordered  by  a  row  of  fine  walnut-trees.  Across 
the  road  a  long  row  of  fig-trees  forms  a  border  to 
the  vast  fields  spread  out  before  you.  The  field 
gate  is  directly  opposite  the  lawn  gate,  or  44  big 
gate  "  as  it  is  called,  which  opens  into  the  grove 
and  leads  to  the  mansion. 

Going  into  the  field-gate,  the  wagon  road  is  bor- 
dered each  side  with  a  row  of  fine  peach-trees.  This 
avenue  extends  to  the  far  end  of  the  plantation,  or 
rather  to  the  44  big  cedar."  The  44  big  cedar  "  is 
famous  for  its  size,  and  stands  at  the  beginning  of 
the  woodland.  Curving  off  from  the  big  cedar, 
under  whose  shady  boughs  many  a  picnic  has  been 
held,  a  lovely  sweep  of  pine-trees  runs  along  the 
side  of  the  plantation,  and  just  where  the  pine 
[17] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


forest  ends,  near  the  public  road,  stands  a  lonely 
log  cabin. 

In  this  desolate  home,  where  the  sighing  of  the 
pines  is  ever  heard,  lives  Mammy.  In  the  early 
morning  she  may  be  seen  emerging  from  the  rickety 
door  of  her  house.  She  goes  to  the  little  garden 
at  the  back  of  the  cabin  and  gathers  a  few  sprouts 
from  the  monstrous  collard-stalks,  which  seem  to 
have  a  wonderful  vitality  for  putting  out  new 
leaves  on  their  gaunt  and  twisted  necks,  and,  like 
the  cruse  of  oil,  furnish  a  continuous  supply  of 
food  for  the  old  negress  year  in  and  year  out. 
Mammy  Joe  takes  her  sprouts  to  the  well,  lets 
down  the  bucket  and  draws  up  the  fresh  cool  water. 
She  washes  the  "  greens  "  in  a  leaky  tin  pan,  takes 
them  into  the  cabin  and  puts  them  on  to  "  b'ile  "  in 
a  pot  swinging  from  a  crane  in  the  chimney.  The 
chimney  is  usually  propped  up  on  the  outside  by  a 
fence  rail.  Sometimes  Mammy  puts  a  piece  of 
meat  on  with  the  "  greens,"  but  generally  she  puts 
none.  On  a  low  bed  in  the  cabin  lies  an  invalid 
daughter.  Two  grandsons,  whose  mother  is  dead, 
also  live  with  her.  Having  put  the  "  pot  on  ter 
b'ile  wid  de  greens,"  and  having  attended  the  ash- 
hopper,  where  lye  is  dripping  to  make  soap,  and 
having  fed  the  few  chickens  in  her  coop,  Mammy 
[18] 


MAMMY  JOE  AND  THE  OLD  HOME 

sits  down  to  await  the  cooking  of  the  greens.  Her 
cabin  faces  the  old  home.  She  sits  and  looks 
through  the  door  across  the  field,  over  the  fig-trees, 
through  the  walnut  hedge  to  where  "  de  house  99  can 
be  seen  nestled  under  the  oaks.  The  changed  con- 
ditions have  been  almost  as  hard  on  the  old  nurse 
as  on  the  mistress  whom  she  had  laid  to  rest  with 
her  own  devoted  hands.  Though  desperately  poor, 
Mammy  Joe  is  as  proud  as  any  colonial  dame.  She 
would  scorn  to  beg,  and  if  she  were  starving  she 
would  not  admit  that  she  was  hungry.  The  dig- 
nity of  her  white  folks  must  be  upheld.  Indeed, 
this  family  pride  of  these  old  mammies, — their 
devotion  to  the  memory  of  the  old  times  is  the 
great  charm  which  lingers  around  them  like  the 
scent  of  dead  roses.  The  feeling  of  this  invisible 
presence  of  buried  sweetness  wraps  one  around  like 
the  fragrance  of  a  dream  as  one  listens  to  the  tales 
of  the  past  and  hears  the  plaintive  echoes  of  those 
old  times,  so  full  of  romance,  so  picturesque,  so 
dear.  While  thus  waiting  for  her  "  greens  ter 
b'ile,"  Mammy  is  at  her  best  when  you  want  her  to 
talk  of  the  olden  times.  The  sound  of  her  voice 
comes  to  me  like  a  far-off  strain  of  music.  I  hear 
her  say  again  with  a  soft,  low  tenderness,  as  one 
would  speak  while  talking  of  the  dead : 

[19] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

"  Yas,  chile,  dem  wuz  days,  dem  wuz,  when  Mis- 
tis  lived,  an'  I  neber  'spec's  to  see  de  like  ergin." 
And  then  I  hear  her  say  again,  so  apologetically, 
"  Why  didn'  you  sen'  me  word  you  wuz  comin', 
honey?  I'd  er  had  some  uv  de  bes'  fried  chicken 
you  eber  seed,  an'  now  I  ain'  got  er  thing  fitten  ter 
han'  you.  Ne'r  mine,  I  gwine  make  Jake  an'  Isum 
ketch  dat  yaller-laig  domenick  what's  done  got 
out  en  de  coop  an'  run  down  in  de  pines,  an'  I 
gwine  fatten  'er  twell  she  kain'  stan'  up,  an'  de  ve'y 
nex'  time  you  come,  I  gwine  fry  'er.  Jake!  You 
an'  Isum  go  run  down  in  de  woods  an'  see  ef  you 
can'  fine  some  yaller  jasmine  fer  Miss  Ferginia,  an' 
some  uv  dem  heart-leaves  she  usen  ter  be  huntin* 
fe-r  all  de  time.  Honey,  does  you  still  love  de  woods 
an'  de  wile  flowers?  Hit  seem  lak  yisterday  when 
I  usen  ter  see  you  wid  yo'  arms  full  uv  honeysuckle 
an'  makin'  b'lieve  you  wuz  er  fai'y  princess.  I 
hates  ter  look  over  at  de  house  dese  days.  Hit 
sets  me  thinkin'  'bout  de  ole  times  what  you  don' 
even  'member.  Don'  look  at  my  house,  Miss  Fer- 
ginia,  kase  it  ain'  fitten  ter  ax  a  lady  in,  but  hit 
wan'  always  dat  way  'fo'  my  eyes  give  out.  When 
I  c'd  see,  I  c'd  keep  eve'ything  in  order,  an'  in  dem 
days  de  cabin  what  I  lived  in  was  fitten  fer  any 
lady  ter  come  inter.  But  now,  I  mos'  'shamed  ter 
[20] 


MAMMY  JOE  AND  THE  OLD  HOME 


stay  in  it  myse'f.  Ole  Miss  wouldn'  have  'lowed 
me  ter  live  lak  dis.  But  den,  she's  done  daid  an' 
gone,  an'  I  'spec's  ter  j'ine  her  'fo'  ve'y  long. 

"  No'm,  when  Mistis  lived,  de  cabin  what  I  usen 
ter  occipy  wuz  stan'in'  right  under  dat  oak  you 
see  over  yander  near  de  house.  Le'  me  p'int  hit  out 
ter  you.  Kin  you  see  thoo'  de  grove,  honey,  ter  de 
right  side  uv  de  house?  Well,  look  right  dis  way. 
Yassum,  dat's  hit — dat  big  white  oak.  Dat's  whar 
I  usen  to  lib,  an'  de  chinkin'  in  de  logs  wa'n'  done 
wid  ole  rags  nurr.  Lawd,  chile !  many  is  de  time 
I  is  rocked  Mistis'  gran'chillun  ter  sleep  in  dat 
cabin.  But  hit's  been  to'  down  too  long  ter  talk 
erbout.  Now  I  libs  over  hyar  in  de  woods.  Yassum, 
de  fam'ly  is  all  done  moved  erway  now,  but  de  chil- 
lun  he'ps  me  all  dey  kin.  But  it  ain'  lak  it  wuz  in 
de  ole  times.  Dem  white  folks  what  I  done  tell 
you  erbout,  ain'  got  de  raisin'  uv  our  white  folks. 
Dey  is  er  dhTun'  kine  uv  peoples.  Why,  honey, 
one  day  I  went  ober  ter  de  house  ter  take 
some  sof  soap  ter  'change  fer  er  spec  uv  sugar, 
an'  dey  wuz  settin'  at  de  table  an  re'chin'  ercross 
ter  he'p  deyse'fs  ter  de  dinner.  Dey  don'  know 
how  ter  eat  offen  mahog'ny  tables  no  better  dan 
my  Isum  an'  Jake.  An'  de  'hog'ny  baids  is  all 
scratched  up,  an'  eve'y  book  in  de  bookcase  is 
[21] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

upside  down ! "  I  hear  her  laugh  again,  as  she 
continues :  "  I  knows  it  kase  I  dus'  dem  books  too 
many  times,  an'  Mistis  is  showed  me  de  top  sides. 
An',  honey,  dem  white  folks  is  done  to'  down  de 
kitchen  what  usen  ter  stan'  in  de  yard,  'way  off 
f  'um  de  house ;  an'  done  put  up  er  shed-room  right 
on  de  een  uv  de  piazzy  fer  ter  cook  in.  Yassum, 
dey  is !  An',  chile,  dey  done  turnt  de  pantry  inter 
er  sto'-room,  an'  keeps  flour  an'  sugar  in  paper  bags 
— 'f  o'  Gawd,  dey  does  !  An'  de  big  sto'-room, — dat 
big  brick  house  you  know  whar  we  always  usen  ter 
keep  hogsheads  uv  sugar  an'  hogsheads  uv  mer- 
lasses — dey  is  turnt  inter  er  dry  goods  sto',  an'  de 
smoke  house  whar  we  usen  ter  have  two  hundred 
hams  hangin'  at  er  time  an'  bar'ls  uv  cracklin's 
an'  bar'ls  uv  spare-ribs  an'  bar'ls  uv  pickled  beef 
salted  down,  dey  is  done  turnt  inter  er  corn 
crib! 

"  Yassum,  honey,  dat  dey  is — an'  de  corn  cribs 
is  been  to'  down,  an'  all  de  ole  cabins  is  been  burnt 
up  an'  de  fence  to'  down,  an'  nuffin'  lef  but  de  big 
gate  pos's.  Lawd,  chile,  I  can'  hardly  stan'  it,  an' 
when  I  sets  hyar  lookin'  ober  dar,  I  thinks  erbout 
de  times  befo'  de  war  when  de  quarters  looked  lak 
er  city,  an'  when  de  plantation  was  lak  er  hive  uv 
bees,  wid  de  han's  at  wuck.  I  can  see  ole  Mistis 
[22] 


MAMMY  JOE  AND  THE  OLD  HOME 

right  now,  walkin'  erlong  lak  er  queen,  froo  de 
quarters  whar  we  all  fairly  worshipped  her.  An' 
I  kin  hyar  'er  say  right  now,  '  How  you  feel,  Uncle 
Billy?  '  An'  I  kin  hyar  Uric'  Billy  say,  '  Des  tol- 
er'ble,  Mistis,  thank  Gawd!  I  thinks  I  c'd  feel 
better  ef  it  wan'  f  er  de  miz'ry  in  my  back.'  6  Well, 
I  will  sen'  you  a  plarster,'  says  Mistis,  an'  den  she 
says  ter  me,  s  Joanner,  be  sho'  dat  Uncle  Billy  gits 
er  plarster  fer  his  back.'  An'  den  she  stops  at  Sis' 
Betsy's  cabin,  an'  I  hyar  'er  say,  s  Good-mornin', 
Aunt  Betsy,  how  is  yo'  rheumatiz  terday?  '  6  Gawd 
be  praised,  I  feels  'bout  de  same,  thanky,  Mistis; 
dat  bitters  seem  ter  do  me  good,'  say  Aunt  Betsy. 
'  Well,  I'll  sen'  you  some  mo','  Mistis  say.  An'  den 
Unc'  Big-Jim  would  be  sho'  ter  say,  6  Good-day, 
Mistis,  I  feels  lak  er  dram  would  set  me  up,  please 
ma'am,'  an'  Miss  would  larf  an'  say,  6  Ve'y  well, 
Uncle  Jim,  jes'  come  ter  de  house  an'  Joanner  shell 
mix  you  er  nice  toddy.'  Lawd,  honey !  Fifty  little 
niggers  would  be  foll'in'  Mistis;  an'  de  big  basket 
uv  biskits  an'  sugar  cakes  what  I  toted  would  be 
emptied  in  no  time.  Wish  I  had  some  uv  'um  right 
now  an'  er  tas'e  uv  dat  toddy  an'  one  uv  dem  plars- 
ters  fer  my  back.    Dat  I  do. 

"  Honey,  does  you  ubsurb  dem  two  gate  pos's  in 
front  uv  de  house?    Well,  chile,  in  dem  days  befo' 
[  23  ] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

de  war,  de  ca'iages  what  come  thoo'  dat  gate  wuz 
er  sight  ter  see. 

"  You  knows  Wash  Crawford  ?  Well,  he  wuz 
one  uv  de  out-lookers — he  usen  ter  set  on  de  top  uv 
de  pos'  tow'ds  de  Greensboro'  side,  an'  Larfett,  he 
usen  ter  set  on  de  pos'  tow'ds  de  ribber  side.  Den 
Merc'ry  an'  Cupid  dey  wuz  de  runners.  Ef  Wash 
seed  de  dust  risin'  in  de  road  tow'ds  de  town  side, 
he  give  de  word  ter  de  runners,  an'  while  Cupe 
th'owed  open  de  gate,  Merc'ry  he  runned  ter  de 
house  ter  noterfy  ole  Miss,  an'  bless  yo'  soul,  befo' 
de  ca'iage  'rived  at  de  gate,  Br'er  Tom  would  hab 
de  cake  an'  wine  out  on  de  sideboard  an'  Mistis  w'd 
be  stan'in  on  de  gall'ry  whar  you  see  all  dem  vines, 
waitin'  fer  ter  welcome  de  gues's.  How  we  did  fly 
'roun' !    Ooommmmm ! ! 

"  Br'er  Emp'rer  he'd  see  dat  de  horses  wuz  wa- 
tered an'  fed,  an'  Sis'  Ann,  she  'tended  ter  de  feedin' 
uv  de  servants.  Sometimes  hit  wuz  de  Bishop  an' 
sometimes  hit  wuz  ladies  an'  gent'muns  all  de  way 
f'um  Mon'gomery,  an'  sometimes  hit  wuz  jes'  de 
j  edges  an'  lawyers  gwine  f'um  Greensboro  ter 
Eutaw  ter  'ten'  court.  But  no  matter,  eve'ybody 
knowed  eve'ybody  in  dem  days,  befo'  de  peoples 
git  so  p'omiscus. 

"  Now,  ef  de  dus'  riz  on  de  ribber  side,  den 
[24] 


MAMMY  JOE  AND  THE  OLD  HOME 


Larfett  lie  gib  de  'larm,  an'  de  runners  opened  de 
gates  an'  tuck  de  news  ter  de  house  es  fas'  es  dey 
c'd  run.  Den  we  knowed  hit  wuz  comp'ny  f'um 
Eutaw  or  f'um  Mobile,  an'  'specially  ef  we  hyard 
de  steamboat  blow.  Sometimes  dey  des'  takes  rer- 
freshmen's  an'  den  go  on,  but  mos'  giner'lly  dey 
stayed  er  week  an'  sometimes  er  mont'.  Sich 
dancin'  an'  frolickin'  you  neber  seed,  an'  horse- 
back ridin'  an'  drivin'  in  de  ca'iages,  an'  chest- 
nut huntin',  getherin'  wile  flowers  an'  grasses, 
o-o-o-m-m-m ! ! 

"  Miss  Fanny  usen  ter  play  de  harp  an'  sing — 
dat  gre't  big  harp,  honey,  what  Mistis  had  sont 
f'um  France  in  Parus.  I  wuz  er  young  gal  in  dem 
days  an'  I  usen  ter  he'p  rub  de  silber,  an'  whip  de 
cream  fer  de  cillybub,  an'  I  usen  ter  he'p  keep  de 
flies  off  en  de  table  too.  No  common  nigger,  honey, 
kin  bresh  de  table  wid  de  peacock  tail;  it  ain'  in 
'urn,  an'  I  wuz  mighty  proud  when  Mistis  le'  me 
stan'  behine  'er  an'  wave  dat  bresh. 

"  In  dem  days  de  stage  coach  usen  ter  come 
along  wid  fo'  horses  an'  blow  de  horn  whenever 
dey  stop  ter  let  off  passengers.  Chile,  hit  wuz  er 
sight  ter  see  de  niggers  run  when  dat  horn  blowed. 
You'd  er  thought  hit  was  Gab'el,  it  blowed  so  loud, 
an'  brought  de  people  out  lak  de  summons  done 
[25] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

come.  But  our  comp'ny  neber  corned  on  de  stage 
coach — dat  is,  ve'y  seldom.  But  Chris'mus  was  de 
time  fer  real  joy  an'  happiness  in  dem  days !  Sich 
loads  uv  good  things  you  neber  seed  in  yo'  life. 
De  fam'ly  usen  ter  come  down  ter  de  quarters  ter 
see  de  breakdown ;  an'  Jerrymiah  an'  Josephus  w'd 
cut  de  pigeon  wing.  De  younger  set  lak  Wash 
an'  Larfett  an'  Cupe  an'  Merc'ry  w'd  dress  up  an' 
sing  an'  dance  4  John  Cooner ;'  an'  Ike  an'  'Rastus 
drawed  de  fiddle.  Mos'  gin'rally  one  uv  de  young 
gals  would  git  ma'ied  on  Chris'mus  night,  an'  dat 
w'd  make  er  bigger  time  dan  eber.  Aig-nog  an' 
hot  punch  wuz  free  es  water,  an'  de  roas'  hawg  an' 
cracklin'  braid  wuz  es  superfine  es  de  tuckey  an'  de 
chicken.  But  "  de  house  "  wuz  de  place  on  Chris'- 
mus— all  dec'rated  wid  evergreens  f'um  de  swamp ; 
an'  de  ladies  did  look  so  smart  when  dey  come  down 
de  stair  steps  an'  ranged  deyse'fs  in  de  drawin' 
room  fer  ter  dance  de  Kerchy  Cotillyum.  An'  de 
gent'muns  dey  bow  so  low  when  dey  tech  dey 
han's,  hit  look  lak  er  dream.  Br'er  Billy  he  wuz 
always  de  fiddler  fer  de  house,  he  an'  'Rastus ;  an' 
when  dey  scrape  de  bow  an'  call  out  4  Face  yo' 
partners,'  hit  wuz  er  sight  ter  behol'.  Den  dey 
danced  er  dance  called  de  minnyet,  but  hit  wuz 
too  slow  fer  de  fiddle,  an'  Mistis  always  had  er  man 
[26] 


MAMMY  JOE  AND  THE  OLD  HOME 

f'um  town  ter  play  hit  on  de  pianner.  De  yard 
was  lit  up  wid  tar-bar'ls  an'  torches,  an'  I  don' 
know  which  seem  de  nappies' — de  white  folks  er  de 
niggers.  But  dar  ain'  no  mo'  Chris'mus-giP- 
ketchin'  now — no  mo'  new  linsey  frocks  an'  new 
shoes,  'cep'in'  what  you  buys  fer  yo'se'f,  an'  no 
mo'  good  ole  times  lak  dem.  Eve'ybody  done  got 
po'  'cep'in'  dem  new-fashioned  white  folks  what's 
comin'  down  Souf  what  never  owned  no  niggers. 

"  Jes'  'fo'  de  war,  when  yo'  Pa  got  ma'ied,  an' 
fotch  yo'  Ma  ter  de  home,  she  wuz  de  beautifules' 
bride  I  ever  seed.  She  sutny  wuz  er  angel  ef  dey 
ever  wuz  one,  an'  she  knowed  how  ter  b'ar  trouble 
too,  fer  hard  times  an'  trouble  corned  erlong  han' 
in  han',  an'  dey  seem  ter  have  j'ined  han's  ter  stay 
wid  us. 

"  You  looks  des'  lak  yo'  Ma,  Miss  Ferginia, 
'cep'in  you  ain'  es  putty,  hut  you  talks  des'  lak 
yo'  Pa,  an'  I  hyar  tell  dat  you  is  smart  lak  he  wuz, 
wid  book  larnin',  an'  I  hopes  you  is,  fer  he  wuz 
de  smartes'  man  dat  eber  lived  in  dis  county.  I 
'members  one  day  when  de  war  broke  out,  de 
gent'muns  wuz  all  tryin'  ter  draw  er  star  fer  er 
pattern  fer  yo'  Ma  ter  make  a  flag,  an'  yo'  Pa  wuz 
de  onlies'  gent'mun  what  c'd  draw  dat  star  right. 
An'  he  tuck  dat  flag  ter  Mobile  when  he  went  off 
[27] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

wid  his  comp'ny.  Dar  wan'  no  gent'mun  in  de 
county  what  knowed  all  de  book-larnin'  dat  yo'  Pa 
knowed,  an'  nobody  in  de  worl'  wuz  ever  so  good  es 
yo'  Pa  an'  yo'  Ma,  ter  us  po'  niggers.  Lawd  have 
mussy!  You  hyar  me  call  myse'f  er  nigger, 
honey?  Well,  chile,  I  don'  lak  ter  call  myse'f  er 
nigger,  kase,  pertic'lar  speakin',  dar  ain'  but  one 
sho'  miff  nigger,  an'  dat's  de  debble.  We  black 
folks  ain'  'zackly  niggers,  you  know,  honey,  we  is 
des'  black-skinned  white  folks.  My  heart  is  des'  es 
white  es  yo'  dress;  yas,  chile,  dat  it  is,  an'  my 
black  skin  don'  make  no  diffunce  ter  de  Lawd!  " 

Thus,  sitting  at  the  feet,  so  to  speak,  of  the 
Mammy  whose  black  skin  "  don'  make  no  diffunce 
ter  de  Lawd,"  I  have  gleaned  many  of  the  facts  of 
my  stories  from  her  rambling  reminiscences  of  the 
old  plantation  days  that  are  no  more. 


[28] 


Lookin'  fer  Marse  Willie 


Lookin'  fer  Marse  Willie 


THE  old  mansion  rested  upon  the  summit 
of  one  of  the  beautiful  sweeping  knolls, 
so  characteristic  of  the  highland  district 
of  Alabama,  and  was  surrounded  at  the  rear  and 
sides  by  the  stately  live-oaks  and  crepe-myrtles  so 
profuse  in  that  section  of  the  State. 

The  sloping  lawn  in  front  was  green,  but  the 
old-time  velvety  smoothness  had  given  place  to  a 
confusion  of  flowers  and  weeds  and  grass.  The 
handsome  avenue  of  arborvitas,  untrimmed  and 
uncared  for,  stretched  out  long  shoots  like  gaunt 
skeleton  arms,  over  the  confusion  and  dilapidation 
of  the  neglected  homestead. 

Two  long  rows  of  tumbled-down  cabins  beyond 
the  once  famous  mansion  represented  indeed  a 
"  Deserted  Village,"  while  the  "  horse  lot "  en- 
circling the  adjacent  hillsides  was  no  longer  filled 
with  frolicking  steeds.  Its  fences  were  down,  and 
the  once  prosperous  barns  and  corncribs  were  ren- 
dering up  their  remaining  beams  to  supply  the 
fire-wood  for  the  house. 

The  carriage-house,  or  what  was  left  of  it,  was 
now  converted  into  a  cow-shed,  under  which  stood 
[31] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

a  patient  old  brindle  waiting  to  be  milked.  The 
tinkle  of  the  bell  which  she  had  worn  as  the  leader 
of  a  large  drove,  was  the  only  sound  which  broke 
the  deathlike  stillness  of  the  place,  except  the 
creaking  of  an  old  broken-down  buggy  with  tires 
half  off,  which  came  creeping  in  at  the  heels  of  the 
remains  of  a  horse,  whose  reins  were  held  by  the 
remains  of  the  old-time  coachman  of  Myrtle  Knoll. 

Uncle  Billy  rolled  the  "  remains  "  of  the  buggy 
under  one  side  of  the  shed  and  turned  old  Stonewall 
loose.  The  tired  horse  immediately  began  to  assist 
old  Brindle  at  her  meagre  repast  of  corn-shucks, 
while  Uncle  Billy  gathered  up  a  satchel  and  band- 
box out  of  the  vehicle  and  trudged  to  "  de  house," 
as  the  mansion  was  called.  The  old  man  walked 
quite  sprightly  for  one  of  his  age  and  ailments, 
and  a  look  of  intense  satisfaction  lit  up  the  features 
of  his  venerable  black  face,  so  expressive  of  benevo- 
lence and  kindness. 

"  She's  done  cum,"  he  remarked  as  he  deposited 
the  satchel  at  the  back  entry  of  the  house.  "  She's 
done  cum,  Mandy."  Aunt  Mandy,  who  was  busy 
wiping  out  a  lamp  chimney  at  the  little  shelf 
in  the  back  gallery,  jumped  slightly  at  the  sound 
of  her  brother's  remark,  for  she  had  not  heard  him 
come  up. 

[32] 


LOOKIX'  FER  MARSE  WILLIE 


"  Who,  Miss  Rose?  "  she  replied,  quickly.  "  You 
don'  ses  so !  An'  hyar  I  is  tryin'  ter  set  dis  ole 
lamp  er  goin'  dat  ain5  had  no  ile  sence  de  chile  cum 
home  two  year  ergo.  But  how  dis  you  git  hyar  so 
soon,  Billy?  I  been  'lowin'  you'd  break  down  in 
de  mud  wid  ole  Stonewall  an'  dat  rickety  buggy. 
Whar  Miss  Rose?  W'at  you  go  fetch  'er  up  de 
back  way  fer?  You  know,  I'se  too  lame  ter  sweep 
de  leaves  off'n  any  whar  'cep'in'  de  front  walk,  an' 
now  you  done  fetched  'er  in  de  back  way  what  I 
ain'  had  de  strenf  fer  ter  sweep !  " 

"  I  never  fotched  'er  in  de  back  way,  Sis'  Man- 
dy,"  replied  L'ncle  Billy.  "  She  jes'  would  git  out 
at  de  big  gate  an'  walk  ter  de  house;  sed  she  jes' 
hatter  walk.  Dar  she  cum  now,"  he  exclaimed, 
pointing  to  the  slim,  girlish  figure  wending  her  way 
in  and  out  through  the  rose  bushes  to  the  home. 
LTncle  Billy  sat  down  on  the  back  steps  and  drew 
an  old  cob  pipe  from  his  coat  pocket,  raked  out 
some  dried  tobacco  leaves,  crushed  them  up  in  his 
hand,  filled  his  pipe  and  began  to  smoke.  The 
nicotine  acted  upon  memory  as  usual,  for  L'ncle 
Billy  began  to  look  dreamy  and  to  talk  to  himself: 

"  Ef  Marse  Willie  jes'  n'ould  cum  back!  "  he  re- 
peated, plaintively.  "  Es  ole  as  I  is,  I'd  split  rails 
an'  fix  de  fences,  an'  set  dis  place  er  goin'  lak  it 
[33] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

usen  ter  be  befo'  de  wah.  Ain'  nuthin'  lef  hyar 
now  'cep'in'  ha'nts.  Eben  dose  good  fer  nuthin' 
niggers  what  wouldn'  he'p  me  mek  er  crop  fer  Miss 
Lilly  is  'feered  ter  cum  hyar  ter  eben  steal  chickens. 
Dat's  de  onlies'  good  I  is  ever  knowed  ha'nts  ter  do 
— keepin'  off  fiefs.  But  dey's  too  many  uv  dem 
res'less  sperits  gittin'  roun'  hyar  ter  suit  me.  But 
I  ain'  s'prised  whiles  Miss  Lilly  look  so  powerful  lak 
a  ghos'  herse'f.  Ain'  no  soun'  er  nuthin'  on  de 
place  'cep'in'  jes  Mandy  an'  me — an'  ole  Brindle — 
an'  de  horse — an'  Gen'l.  Wonder  whar  dat  dawg 
is  anyhow!  Hyar,  Gen'l,  hyar,  cum  hyar, 
Gen'l." 

General  came  walking  up  with  a  tired  look  in  his 
sightless  eyes;  in  fact,  the  old  house  pet  was  blind, 
and  almost  stone  deaf;  only  his  dog  instinct  and 
the  time  of  the  day  enabled  him  to  creep  out  from 
his  bed  under  the  steps  when  Uncle  Billy  called. 
"  Hyar's  de  scraps  I  save'  fer  you,  ole  feller,"  and 
Uncle  Billy  pulled  out  two  meat  skins  and  a  piece 
of  crust  from  the  back  pocket  of  his  best  coat, 
which  he  had  put  on  in  honor  of  driving  the  buggy 
to  the  station,  ten  miles  away,  for  Rosalind  Wal- 
lace. 

Aunt  Mandy  had  hastened  to  the  front,  where 
the  girl  could  be  seen  lingering  among  the  rose 
[34] 


LOOKIN'  FER  MARSE  WILLIE 


bushes,  now  filled  with  buds  in  spite  of  numerous 
dead  branches.  "  Lawd  bless  my  soul ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  How  you  do,  Miss  Rose !  I  sutny  an' 
sho'  is  proud  ter  see  yer.  How  cum  you  didn'  ride 
up  de  ab'nue,  hone}7?  I  'spec'  you  done  git  yo' 
little  feets  plum'  full  uv  mud,  walkin'  fro'  de  bushes 
dis  way."  The  old  woman  bent  down  and  hugged 
the  skirts  of  the  fair  young  girl,  whose  graceful 
arms  were  outstretched  to  the  faithful  old  mammy. 
Her  soft  blue  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  and  she 
trembled  visibly  as  she  asked,  44  How  is  she,  Mam- 
my, and  how  are  you?  " 

"  We  is  gittin'  'long  jes'  tolerable,  honey," 
Mammy  replied.  44  She's  takin'  a  little  nap  dis 
ebenin',  but  you  is  gwine  ter  see  'er  es  soon  es  she 
wakes  up.  She  seem  ter  sleep  er  good  deal  hyar 
lately,  but  den  dat's  good  fer  'er,  kase  hit  seem  ter 
me  she  ain'  never  is  sleep  a  whole  night  in  twenty 
year." 

Rosalind  pressed  the  stiff  black  hand  silently, 
and  her  pensive  face  assumed  a  deeper  sadness  as 
she  mounted  the  steps  of  the  front  piazza  of  her 
old  Southern  home.  Seeing  the  look  of  sadness, 
the  nurse  brushed  stealthily  a  tear  from  her  own 
honest  eye,  for  she  too  was  bearing  a  weight  of 
memories  and  grief  which  she  endeavored  to  hide, 
[35] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

and  in  a  bright,  brisk  manner  began  to  bring  up  a 
chair  and  offer  a  welcome  to  the  young  mistress  of 
the  house. 

"  Take  er  cheer,  honey,  an'  set  down,"  she  said 
cheerfully.  "  I  know  you  mus'  be  tired  out  wid  de 
long  ride  behine  ole  Stonewall.  I  gwine  fix  you 
somethin'  ter  eat  bime'by.  But  you  mus'  set  hyar 
an'  res'  er  while  fus'  an'  let  yo'  ole  mammy  look  at 
you  good.  Bless  Gawd,  I'se  proud  ter  see  you,  an' 
de  weather  done  cl'ared  up  jes'  beautiful  fer  ter 
give,  you  er  welcome  home.  Jes'  look  ober  dar  at  de 
putty  sunset,  honey !  Now  ain't  dat  j  es'  too  beau- 
tiful! Dem  clouds  is  mos'  es  red  es  my  ole  haid- 
han'cher',  an'  jes'  look  at  de  piles  uv  snow-drif 
clouds  lak  beat-up  aigs !  Jes'  look,  Miss  Rose ! 
But,  dar  now,  honey,  dar  is  de  ole  fambly  signmint 
uv  trubble  in  dem  clouds.  Dar  now,  dar  de  shad- 
der,  sho'  you  born.  Yassum,  I  said  de  shadder, 
Ain'  you  never  hyared  uv  de  shadder  ?  Yas,  honey, 
dar  it  is;  it's  de  shadder  I  always  sees  when  we  is 
gwine  hab  trubble.  Don't  you  see  it,  Miss  Rose? 
Look  right  ober  de  hills  'tween  dem  two  talks'  spur- 
rers."  The  old  woman  pointed  her  long  black 
finger  in  superstitious  awe  toward  where  the  imag- 
inary symbol  of  trouble — seen  only  by  herself — 
was  supposed  to  be  darkening  the  sunlight  against 

[36] 


LOOKIN'  FER  MARSE  WILLIE 


the  hills  with  its  ominous  presence.  "  You  see  dat 
long  black  streak  what  look  lak  er  cross?"  she 
whispered.  "  Yassum,  dat's  hit;  well,  when  you 
sees  dat  cross  dar  at  sunset,  hit's  de  sho'  sign  we 
gwine  hab  trubble."  Noting  the  anxious  look  on 
Rosalind's  face,  she  hastily  exclaimed :  "  But  den, 
I  ain'  lookin'  fer  no  trubble  now  you  is  come  home, 
honey,  no — dat  I  ain'." 

Rosalind  had  risen  from  the  seat  she  had  taken 
and  was  standing  beside  the  negress,  looking  far 
above  the  hilltops  into  the  sky.  Her  sensitive 
nature  was  vibrating  to  the  superstitious  awe  of  the 
old  nurse.  A  deeper  sadness  seemed  to  settle  upon 
her  troubled  looks,  and  unbidden  tears  began  to  roll 
from  her  eyes  upon  her  soft  cheeks. 

"  Lawd,  Miss  Rose,  what  make  you  cry,  chile  ? 
Don'  do  dat,  honey,  you  mos'  bre'k  my  heart  ef  you 
do  dat  way,"  said  Mammy. 

"  It  cannot  mean  more  trouble  to  her,  can  it, 
Mammy  ? "  Rosalind  sobbed  out  softly,  as  she 
leaned  upon  the  arm  that  reached  out  to  support 
her. 

"  Lawd,  no,  Miss  Rose,"  replied  Amanda,  in 
deep  self-reproach  at  bringing  grief  to  her  child. 
"  Lawd,  no,  honey.  Don'  cry,  Miss  Rose.  You 
mos'  bus'  my  heart  open  ef  you  do  dat  way.  I 

[37] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


wish  I  hadn'  never  seen  dat  shadder;  hit  sutny 
don'  mean  no  mo'  trouble  to  Miss  Lilly  " 

"  But  it  means  trouble  to  you  and  to  me,  Mam- 
my, and  to  Uncle  Billy,"  replied  the  girl.  "  I  do 
not  need  any  sign  in  the  heavens,  Mammy,  to  tell 
me  that  trouble  is  at'hand.  Oh,  I  feel  so  oppressed 
at  heart.  It  seems  as  if  the  old  place  never  looked 
so  desolate,  so  changed,  so — utterly  wretched;  the 
cabins  are  nearly  all  gone — and — and — how  lonely 
the  old  gate-posts  look.  Oh !  how  sad  it  is  to  live 
where  the  world  seems  dead !  "  Rosalind  flung  her- 
self upon  the  chair  from  which  she  had  risen.  Her 
abandonment  to  grief  was  so  new  to  the  usual  brave 
demeanor  of  the  orphaned  girl,  that  Aunt  Amanda 
was  bewildered  with  distress.  She  flung  herself 
upon  her  knees  by  the  weeping  girl  and  began  to 
comfort  her  in  her  simple  way. 

"  Don'  cry  no  mo',  honey,"  she  pleaded,  "  don' 
cry  no  mo'.  I  know  it's  hard  — things  do  look 
mighty  changed,  but  den  you  mus'  'spec9  dat. 
What  you  keer  'bout  dem  ole  cabins,  an'  de  fences 
bein'  gone?  Dey  makes  good  kindlin'  wood  an' 
saves  er  pile  uv  haulin'.  Yassum,  dem  ole  gate 
pos's  do  look  mighty  lonesome  stan'in'  up  dar  all 
by  deyse'fs.  We  ain'  never  is  whitewashed  'em 
sence  you  come  las'  time,  Miss  Rose — tell  you  de 
[38] 


LOOKIN'  FER  MARSE  WILLIE 

trufe,  honey,  dey  looks  too  skeery  stan'in'  up  dar 
in  de  dark,  widout  no  fence  hitched  ter  'urn,  an'  we 
wuz  glad  when  de  rain  wash'  de  lime  off.  You  see, 
Br'er  Billy,  he's  skeered  uv  ha'nts,  an'  he  wouldn't 
pass  dem  pos's  in  de  dark  while  de  whitewash  las' 
fer  de  worl'.    No'm !  dat  he  wouldn'." 

Rosalind  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"  Dear  Uncle  Billy,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Is  he 
really  afraid  of  6  ha'nts  ?  '  "  she  asked  with  child- 
like interest.  "  But  Mammy,"  she  said,  returning 
to  her  troubled  looks,  "  I  want  to  see  my  mother. 
I  have  come  home  to  stay  with  her — until — until — 
I  mean,  always."  The  tears  came  again  to  the 
tender  eyes. 

"  Yassum,"  Mammy  replied.  "  Jes'  es  soon  es 
she  wake  up.  Now,  don'  go  ter  cryin'  no  mo', 
Miss  Rose.  I  knows  hit's  sad,  honey,  but  yo'  Ma 
ain'  in  no  sufferin'.  Now,  I  knows  her  hair  done 
turn  snow  white ;  I  knows  all  dat,  an'  I  knows  you 
is  one  brave  chile,  gwine  'way  up  yander  'mong 
strangers  ter  work  fer  ter  s'port  yo'  Ma,  an'  ter 
keep  de  house  from  bein'  sole  so  she  kin  libe  in  it 
ondesturbed.  I  knows  what  you  is  done,  honey, 
an'  I  is  done  de  bes'  I  kin  ter  he'p  you  teck  keer  uv 
'er.    Dat  I  is. 

"  An'  she's  still  thinkin'  dat  you  is  a  little  baby 
[39] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

an'  dat  she's  rockin'  you  ter  sleep  eve'y  night  while 
she  watches  f er  yo'  Pa  ter  cum  home  f'um  de  war. 
Watchin'  f er  'im  de  same  es  she  done  while  de  war 
was  fightin',  an'  den  when  dey  was  done  killin'  one 
nurr  an'  all  dem  what  was  lef '  cum  back  home,  an' 
Marse  Willie,  yo'  Pa,  didn'  cum,  po'  Miss  Lilly, 
she  never  said  er  word — jes'  stan'  an'  look  up  de 
ab'nue  an'  watch  an'  wait  des  de  same,  never  movin' 
'cep'in'  ter  rock  you  ter  sleep,  an'  watch  on." 

"And  does  she  never  weep?"  asked  Rosalind, 
very  softly. 

"  Lawd,  no,  honey.  She  ain'  never  is  cried  yit 
in  all  dese  years,  an'  she  ain'  never  is  'peared  ter 
know  dat  you  is  done  growed  up.  She's  des'  de 
same.  She  take  eve'ything  lak  someone  in  er 
trance. 

"  When  I  ses  ter  'er :  6  Come  eat  yo'  dinner,  Miss 
Lilly,'  she  comes  erlong  lak  er  little  chile  to  de 
dinin'  room,  an'  she  eats  lak  er  butterfly,  so  light 
an'  dainty — not  ernough  ter  feed  er  sparrer,  an' 
den  when  she  gits  thoo',  she  goes  back  ter  de  same 
cheer  on  de  gall'ry  an'  takes  'er  seat  ergin  an'  des 
looks  up  de  road  des  de  same.  An'  when  it  gits 
dark,  I  goes  ter  her  an'  ses,  6  Come,  go  ter  baid 
now,  honey;  hit's  gittin'  late,'  an'  den  she  say, 
4  Bring  me  de  baby,  Mammy,  an'  le'  me  rock  'er  ter 
[40] 


LOOKIN'  FER  MARSE  WILLIE 

sleep  'fo'  her  Pa  come  home.'  An'  den  I  makes 
b'lieve  I  is  handin'  you  ter  'er,  an'  she  hoi's  out  'er 
arms  an'  thinks  she's  got  you,  an'  she  sings  dat 
same  baby  chune  she's  been  singin'  all  dese  years. 
Den  when  she  git  so  tired  an'  mos'  fall  ter  sleep,  I 
leads  'er  off  ter  baid.  An'  de  las'  word  she  say 
eve'y  night  de  Lawd  sen'  is, 4  Now  sing  me  ter  sleep, 
Mammy,  an'  wake  me  up  when  Willie  comes ! ' 

"  I  bin  hyarin'  'er  say  dat  all  dese  years  an'  I 
ain'  never  is  lef  'er  fer  no  freedom  nor  nuffin'." 

The  young  daughter  sobbed  silently  as  she  list- 
ened to  the  same  sad  story  that  ever  greeted  her 
brief  returns  to  the  home  she  had  left  only  to  en- 
deavor to  preserve,  by  her  brave  efforts,  for  the 
refuge  of  the  mother  who  still  rocked  her  to  sleep 
in  fancy  and  passed  the  many  years  waiting  for 
her  loved  one  to  return  from  the  war. 

"  Miss  Rose,  you  mus'n'  take  on  so,  honey,"  the 
old  nurse  said  as  she  tried  to  comfort  the  girl; 
"  you  is  done  all  you  could  do  fer  yo'  Ma,  er  angel 
couldn'  do  no  mo',  an'  es  long  es  we  kin  keep  de 
house  f'um  bein'  sole  so  she  kin  stay  hyar,  she  is 
heap  mo'  happy  den  we-all  is,  an'  Marse  Willie  is 
jes'  'bleedged  ter  'pear  ter  'er  some  day, — dat  he  is. 

"  I  never  will  fergit  de  day  Marse  Willie  rid 
down  de  ab'nue  ter  de  war,"  she  said,  standing 
[41] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

erect  and  pointing  down  the  avenue  of  untrimmed 
cedars.  "  I  never  will  fergit  dat  day.  Ole  Prince 
pawed  de  groun',  an'  Jerry  wuz  er  grinnin'  f'um 
year  ter  year — he  so  proud  ter  be  settin'  on  de 
black  colt,  gwine  ter  de  war  wid  his  young  Marsa. 
You  don'  'member  Jerry,  honey,  kase  you  wuz  jes' 
er  baby,  but  Jerry  he  wuz  my  onlies'  chile,  an'  I 
wuz  er  lookin'  at  him  fer  de  las'  time.  We  was 
all  er  standin'  right  out  hyar  on  dis  ve'y  gall'ry, 
waitin'  fer  ter  see  'em  ride  off  to  de  war.  Miss 
Lilly  looked  lak  er  snow-flake  in  'er  white  linen 
dress,  an'  'er  beautiful  young  face  mos'  es  white 
as  de  frock.  But  she  never  shed  er  tear — dat  she 
didn'.  She  smile  an'  wave  'er  han'  an'  hurray  an' 
sing  Dixie,  an'  holt  you  'way  up,  so  Marse  Willie 
c'd  see  you  de  las'  thing  when  he  rid  off. 

"  An',  honey,  ole  Missus  never  cry  nurr,  but  she 
shuck  lak  de  leaves  on  de  tree.  I  de  onlies  one  what 
wuz  cry  in',  but  den,  I  jes'  couldn'  hoi'  in,  I  was  jes 
'bleedged  ter  cry.  I  couldn'  he'p  it.  Seem  lak  I 
had  ter  cry  fer  'em  all  an'  fer  bof e  my  chillen  gwine 
'way  never  ter  cum  back  no  mo'. 

"  Marse  Willie,  he  look  lak  er  king,  an'  he  set  on 
Prince  straight  es  er  arrer;  an'  when  he  done  kiss 
you  an'  yo'  Ma,  he  tuck  my  ole  black  han'  an'  he 
say, 6  Mammy,'  he  say,  6  take  keer  uv  my  Lilly  an' 
[42] 


LOOKIN'  FER  MARSE  WILLIE 


my  Rose  twell  I  comes  back  wid  Jerry  f'um  de  war. 
Gawd  bless  you.' 

"  An'  I  say,  4  Yas,  honey,  don'  you  worry  'bout 
dem;  I  gwine  take  keer  uv  'em  ontwell  you  an' 
Jerry  gits  back.'  An'  I  is  tried  ter  keep  my 
trus' ;  dat  I  is.  I  ain'  never  lef '  Miss  Lilly  f  er  no 
freedom  nur  nuffin'.  Seem  lak  I  kin  hyar  de  clat- 
ter uv  dem  horse  hoofs  gwine  down  de  ab'nue,  es 
Marse  Willie  rid  off  ter  de  war,  ter  dis  day,  an'  I  is 
always  lis'nin'  fer  ter  hyar  'em  cum  back.  I  done 
laid  ole  Mis'  ter  res'  an'  I  done  raised  you  up,  an' — 
an'  I  is  done  tuck  keer  uv  Miss  Lilly,  an'  never 
'spec's  ter  leave  her  twell  Marse  Willie  comes  ter 
claim  'er  at  de  jedgment  day — him  an'  Jerry. 
Seem  lak  I  kin  hyar  de  clatter — "  The  old  nurse 
ceased  suddenly  to  speak. 

"  Keep  still,  Miss  Rose,"  she  whispered  tenderly, 
"  dar  cum  yo'  Ma  right  now.  She  done  wake 
up,  an'  she  knows  it's  gittin'  night-time  an'  she  is 
comin'  ter  rock  you  ter  sleep.  Don'  cry,  honey, 
you  jes'  set  right  hyar  an'  lis'en  when  she  sing. 
She's  des  es  happy  es  er  angel,  Miss  Rose,  an'  see 
how  sweet  'er  face  is !  Na'y  wrinkle — her  skin  lak 
er  baby,  dough  'er  hair  snow  white." 

A  sad,  pale  woman  came  slowly  toward  the  old 
nurse  and  the  young  girl  upon  the  piazza.  Her 
[43] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

hair  was  indeed  white  and  her  skin  fair,  but,  as 
Aunt  Mandy  had  said,  not  a  wrinkle  was  visible 
upon  her  brow.  A  wistful  look,  however,  saddened 
the  once  beautiful  face,  a  wistfulness,  pathetic  in  a 
childlike  unconsciousness  of  all  else  save  the  long- 
ing for  him  for  whom  she  seemed  to  be  forever 
looking. 

The  old  nurse  handed  a  chair  to  the  mother,  who, 
seeing  the  young  girl  (without  a  gleam  of  recog- 
nition, however),  drew  partly  back.  Seeing  her 
hesitation,  Aunt  Mandy  remarked,  reassuringly: 

"  Hit's  only  a  fr'en',  Miss  Lilly ;  you  needn'  mine 
her.  What  dat  you  say,  honey?  Fetch  you  de 
baby?  Yassum,  I'll  gib  you  de  baby.  Hyar  she 
is  right  now."  Lillian  Wallace  held  out  her  arms 
as  if  to  receive  the  precious  one,  which  the  faithful 
nurse  pretended  to  hand  her. 

"  What  did  you  say,  Miss  Lilly?  "  asked  the  old 
nurse,  tenderly  bending  over  her.  "  What's  dat 
you  say,  honey?  You  so  tired  ternight — you  rud- 
der ole  Mammy  ter  sing  fer  you?  All  right  den — 
ho?  yo'  little  han'?  Dat  I  will!  How  cole  it  is. 
What  dat  you  say  ?  You  'spec'  he  gwine  cum  ter- 
night? Well,  you  des  res'  'gin  Mammy's  arm,  an' 
I  gwine  wake  you  when  he  come.  Des'  res'  on  me. 
I  gwine  sing  you  de  chune  what  Marse  Willie  lub 
[  44  ] 


LOOKIN'  FER  MARSE  WILLIE 


mos'.  Yassum,  dat's  his  fav'ite  chune — Jacob's 
Ladder — dat  de  one  he  lub  bes'.  Seem  lak  he's 
boun'  fer  ter  hyar  me  right  now." 

Peering  in  vain  down  the  avenue,  and  listening, 
as  ever,  for  the  sound  of  the  steps  that  were  never 
to  come,  the  tired  mother  leaned  back  on  the  cush- 
ioned chair  and  seemed  to  sleep,  one  arm  holding  in 
imagination  the  baby  to  whom  she  had  sung  for 
twenty  years.  But  to-night,  it  was  the  quivering 
voice  of  the  nurse  that  fell  upon  the  silent  air. 
Mammy  held  tenderly  the  hand  of  her  child,  which 
she  stroked  caressingly,  while  she  sang  the  old  song 
that  "  Willie  loved,"  sang  it  while  the  tears  fell 
from  the  withered  eyes,  her  trembling  voice  almost 
choked  by  uncontrollable  emotion : 

"  I  is  clim'in'  Jacob's  ladder, 

Don'  you  griebe  after  me. 
I  is  clim'in'  Jacob's  ladder, 

Don'  you  griebe  after  me  ; 
I  don'  wan'  you  ter  griebe  after  me. 

'*  I  is  goin'  home  ter  Jordan, 
Don'  you  griebe  after  me. 
I  is  goin'  home  ter  Jordan, 

Don'  you  griebe  after  me ; 
I  don'  wan'  you  ter  griebe  after  me. 

"  I  will  wear  dat  crown  uv  glory, 
Don'  you  griebe  after  me. 

[45] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


I  will  wear  dat  crown  uv  glory, 

Don'  you  griebe  after  me  ; 
I  don'  wan'  you  ter  griebe  after  me." 

Rosalind  too  was  silently  weeping.  She  had 
looked  beseechingly  at  her  dear  one  with  a  last 
longing  hope  for  a  spark  of  recognition — some 
faint  remembrance — but  in  vain.  Kneeling  rever- 
ently, she  pressed  her  face  upon  the  arm  of  the 
mother,  for  whom,  away  among  strangers,  she  had 
labored  so  faithfully  and  devotedly. 

The  hand  that  Mammy  had  released  for  her  to 
kiss  grew  colder  and  colder,  and  the  chafing  did 
not  warm  it.  Aunt  Mandy,  who  was  more  accus- 
tomed to  the  appearance  of  "  her  chile,"  soon  no- 
ticed the  rigid  fingers  and  the  pallid  hue  on  the  si- 
lent brow.  Bending  over  her,  she  called,  piteously 
and  tenderly,  "  Miss  Lilly,  honey,  wake  up !  How 
cole  yo'  han'  is  gittin',  Miss  Lilly!  Miss  Lilly! 
Oh,  Miss  Lilly,  wake  up !  " 

No  answer — no  answer  came,  save  the  sobbing 
sound  of  the  daughter's  grief.  Gathering  the 
weeping  girl  within  her  arms,  she  cried: 

"  Miss  Rose,  Miss  Rose,  don'  weep ;  Marse  Wil- 
lie's sperit  is  come  an'  tucked  my  chile  home  at 
las'!" 


[46] 


Dat  Chile 


Dat  Chile 


"  HE  wa'n'  nair  one  uv  dese  hyar  tow-headed 
tom-boys  lak  de  res'  uv  de  chillun,  I  kin  tell 
you ;  dat  chile  look  mo'  lak  er  sperit  dan  er 
pusson,  an'  her  hair  look  lak  wheat  straw,  hit  wuz 
so  gole  an'  yit  so  fair.  I  usen  ter  say,  when  de 
'lasses  candy  got  de  color  uv  dat  chile's  hair,  it  wuz 
done  pulled  ernuff  an'  fitten  ter  eat — an'  hit  wuz 
too. 

"  She  usen  ter  clam  de  trees  lak  er  squi'l,  an'  she 
look  lak  er  rose  bloomin'  on  de  limb  uv  dat  big  mag- 
nolia-tree. But  she  never  to'  her  frock  nor  skin 
her  han's  lak  de  res' — dat  she  didn'.  She  wuz  es 
dainty  an'  sweet  es  er  butterfly,  an'  sing!  um-m! 
She'd  set  up  dar  an'  sing  lak  er  mockin'  bird  de 
whole  day  long.  Hit  wuz  es  nach'al  ter  hyar  dat 
chile  singin'  dat  when  she  went  off  ter  school  hit 
look  lak  all  de  birds  an'  all  de  sunshine  an'  all  de 
flowers  done  gone  wid  her.  But  when  she  corned 
back,  hit  wuz  lak  de  glory  uv  de  sunrise,  fer  eve'y- 
thing  seemed  bright  ergin.  Yas,  honey,  Miss  Isa- 
bel (fer  dat  wuz  her  name)  wuz  de  light  uv  de 
place,  an'  she  wuz  er  glory -light  too. 

"  She  seemed  ter  think  of  eve'ybody  but  herse'f 

[49] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

while  eve'ybody  wuz  sted'in'  'bout  des  her.  Dat  is, 
her  Gran'pa  an'  me.  Lawd,  yas,  chile,  her  Ma  done 
died  when  she  wuz  born,  an'  her  Pa  soon  f oiler  after. 
Ole  Marster  des  p'intedly  worshipped  dat  baby,  an' 
he  give  her  eve'ything  in  de  worl'  she  seem  ter  wish 
f er.  I  never  'spected  ter  see  de  time  when  Marster 
w'd  er  refused  dat  chile  uv  her  wants ;  but  den,  we 
kin  never  tell  what  gwine  ter  happen,  an'  dat's  sho\ 
We  ain'  certain  uv  nuffin,  honey,  but  def,  fer  dat  is 
boun'  ter  come.  An'  def  did  come  when  ole  Mars- 
ter broke  de  rule. 

"  Hit  wuz  'bout  de  cap'n.  Yassum,  Cap'n 
Franklin — Marse  George  I  called  him — he  wuz  jes' 
f 'um  de  war  'bout  dat  time  wid  de  straps  on  his 
sleeves,  an'  er  likelier  lookin'  young  gent'mun  you 
never  seed.  Dat  chile,  she  des  seem  ter  think  dat 
de  sun  rise  an'  set  in  dem  shoulder-straps  an'  I 
couldn'  see  why  ole  Marster  didn'  lak  him  too.  But 
he  des  seem  ter  simply  hate  de  sight  uv  him. 

"  Dat  hurt  Miss  Isabel  ter  de  quick,  an'  de  'tempt 
ter  keep  'legiance  ter  'em  bofe  seem  ter  upset  dat 
chile  might'ly.  But  I  never  'spected  ter  see  de 
trouble  dat  I  did.  You  see,  dat  chile  wuz  so  young, 
an'  ole  Marster  so  ole ;  I  reckon  dat  wuz  de  reason 
uv  it  all.  It  happened  one  night  in  de  springtime 
— de  time  when  de  birds  is  nestin'  an'  de  flowers  is 
[50] 


DAT  CHILE 


des  beginnin'  fer  ter  bloom,  an'  young  folks  gits 
foolish,  lookin'  so  much  at  de  moon,  dat  I  wuz 
settin'  in  my  cabin  all  erlone  an'  I  wuz  er  smokin' 
my  ole  cob  pipe.  It  was  one  dat  Silas  lef  me 
when  he  died.  I  never  tuck  ter  smokin'  till  after 
dat — an'  den  I  only  smoked  uv  nights  kaze  I  missed 
him  so.  Well,  honey,  I  wuz  er  settin'  dar  sted'in' 
'bout  puttin'  up  my  pipe  an'  gwine  ter  bed — fer  it 
wuz  gittin'  late.  I  set  dar  restin'  er  minnit,  an' 
pres'n'y  I  heerd  some  light  footfall  by  de  do'  an' 
de  latch  hit  lift  up  an'  de  do'  creaked  open. 

"'Who  dar?'  I  said,  reachin'  fer  de  fire-stick, 
an'  fo'  de  Lawd !  ef  it  wa'n'  dat  chile. 

"  4  W-what  in  de  name  uv  de  lan'  is  you  doin'  up 
dis  time  uv  de  night,  Miss  Isabel  ?  '  I  say.  '  What 
on  de  face  uv  de  yearth  is  de  matter  ?  ' 

" 6  Nuffin',  Mammy,'  she  say,  shettin'  de  do'  an' 
drawin'  up  a  cheer  by  de  chimley.  Den  I  see  she 
got  on  gloves  an'  'er  hat,  an'  all  dress  up  fer 
trabellin'. 

"  6  Miss  Bell,'  I  say,  6  what  dis  mean,  honey  ?  9 
"  6  Mammy,'  she  say,  '  you  mustn't  git  mad — 
but  I — I  can'  he'p  it.' 
"'Can'  he'p  what?  '  I  ax. 
"  6 1  love  him  so,'  she  say. 

"  6  Love  who,  chile  ?  '  I  ax  ergin.    Wid  dat,  she 
[51] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


bus'  out  cryin'  an'  flung  'er  arms  'roun'  my  nake 
an'  sob  out : 

"  6  You  know  who  it  is,  don'  you,  Mammy?  Oh, 
Mammy!  Gran'pa,  who  used  ter  be  so  good  ter 
me,  is  so  cruel,'  she  say.  4  Now,  Gran'ma  ma'ied 
Gran'pa  at  sixteen,  an'  I  am  mos'  seventeen,'  she 
say ;  '  an'  Gran'pa  says  I — I  can'  an'  George  says 
I  shall — an' — an'  I'm  so  miserable,  I'm — I'm  gwine 
ter  run  'way.' 

"  4  Gwine  run  'way !  Bless  Gawd !  What  you 
gwine  run  'way  f er  ?  '  I  say. 

"  4  George  won'  wait,'  she  sob  out,  *  an' — an'  I'm 
— he's — he's  comin'  fer  me  ternight — an'  oh,  Mam- 
my! I'm  gwine  be  ma'ied  an'  I'm  so  miser'ble 
an'  so  happy ! ' 

"  4  Hyar !  hyar !  hyar ! '  I  laf s,  an'  den  I  says : 
4  You  des  hoi'  on,  baby,  an'  I  gwine  manage  ole 
Marster.  I  gwine  see  dat  he  lets  in.'  But  'fo'  I 
c'd  move  outen  my  tracks,  I  hyard  er  horse  come 
clatt'in'  up,  an'  'fo'  I  knowed  what  had  happened, 
de  Cap'n  done  jump  down  an'  open  my  do'  an' 
says :  4  Is  you  ready,  darlin'  ?  ' 

44  I  sprunged  up  an'  face  him ;  an'  I  say :  4  No, 
Marse  George,  dis  chile  ain'  ready.  You  ain' 
gwine  ter  ca'y  her  'way  f'um  'er  gran'pa  in  dis 
way,  nor  f'um  her  ole  mammy  nurr.  Ef  you  is  a 
[52] 


DAT  CHILE 


solger,'  I  say,  4  you  ain'  brave  ter  come  hyar, 
stealin'  my  chile  in  de  night.' 

"  4  Don'  was'e  yo'  bref ',  ole  lady,'  he  say.  4  Her 
gran'pa  took  matters  in  his  own  han's  when  he 
wanted  her  gran'ma,'  he  say,  4  an'  he  seem  ter  have 
forgotten  how  it  feels  ter  be  in  love  wid  a  girl,' 
he  say.  4  An'  he  rufuses  me  her  han',  an'  I'm 
gwine  ter  be  solger  enough  ter  take  her  off  by 
storm.' 

4 4  4  Dat  you  ain','  I  say.  4 1  gwine  'larm  dis 
whole  place  an'  raise  er  storm,  sho'  nuff.'  Den, 
chile,  I  des'  'gun  ter  call  des  es  loud  es  I  could 
holler.  4  Oh,  Marster,  oh,  Marster !  Unc'  Peter ! 
Unc'  Peter ! '  But  knowin'  dey  wuz  bof e  deaf,  I 
den  call  fer  de  dawg.  4  Hyar,  Wolf,  hyar,  Wolf, 
hyar!  sick  'im,  sick  'im!'  I  call  4mur-rder! 
mur-rder ! '  Well,  chile,  by  dat  time  ole  Wolf 
'gun  to  yelp  an'  bark  an'  he  an'  me  made  sich  a 
fuss  terge'r  dat  Br'er  Peter  come  runnin'  out,  an' 
ole  Marster  hyard  de  fuss  an'  he  run  out  an'  shoot 
off  his  pistil,  say  in' :  4  Whar  de  fief?  Whar  de 
fief?  '  Well,  Marse  George,  he  cotch  Miss  Isabel 
up  in  his  arms,  an'  set  her  on  de  pony  he  done 
saddle  up,  an'  honey,  de  wors'  uv  it  all,  he  den 
cotched  me  roun'  de  wais' — 'fo'  Gawd,  he  did — an' 
he  sot  me  up  on  his  own  horse,  right  behine  his 
[53] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


saddle,  jumped  up  hisse'f,  give  er  cut  ter  de  horse, 
an'  off  we  went! 

"  Dar  we  wuz,  des  er  flyin'  erlong.  6  Lawd, 
Lawd !  dear  Jesus ! '  I  called  out,  6  have  mussy !  have 
mussy !  Oh,  Marse  George,  Marse  George,  le'  me 
down !    Le'  me  down,  Marse  George,'  I  say. 

"  6  Hoi'  on,  ole  'ooman,'  he  say ;  6  we'll  soon  be 
dar,'  he  say.  All  dat  time,  Miss  Bell  wuz  on  her 
own  li'l  pony,  flyin'  'long  by  de  side  uv  us  lake  er 
sperit  in  de  night.  My  bref  wuz  mos'  gone,  my 
body  wuz  mos'  broke  in  two,  an'  my  eyes  wuz  mos' 
put  out  uv  my  haid,  I  wuz  so  terryfied.  Well, 
chile,  hit  wuz  des  sun-up  when  we  'rived  at  de  li'l 
Pistopal  Church  des  at  de  aige  uv  de  town.  Den 
he  sort  er  ease  up,  an'  he  tuck  me  down  an'  almos' 
tote  me  in  de  church-house.  Dar  wuz  er  preacher 
an'  er  lady  an'  two  odder  gent'muns  in  unyforms. 
Dey  tuck  us  in  an'  de  preacher  he  say  some  pra'rs, 
an'  pernounce  'urn  man  an'  wife.  Des  den  we 
hyard  a  big  fuss  outside,  an'  bless  Gawd!  hit  wuz 
ole  Marster.  He  done  drove  up  wid  de  fam'ly 
ca'iage  an'  de  horses  wuz  white  wid  foam.  He 
walk  right  in  de  church-house,  an'  he  say,  wid  his 
face  pale  as  def : 

"  6  Jes'  in  time  fer  ter  give  my  blessin'.'  Den  he 
kiss  de  bride  an'  shuck  han's  wid  de  groom  an'  de 
[54] 


DAT  CHILE 


urrs,  an'  he  give  his  arm  ter  Miss  Isabel,  an'  say: 
4  We'll  go  home  ter  breakfas'.'  An'  he  'scorted 
'um  ter  de  ca'iage.  He  put  us  eve'y  One  in — me 
an'  all — an'  tuck  de  whole  uv  us  back  home.  Well, 
it  looked  too  good  ter  be  true,  honey,  an'  hit  wuz. 

44  Ole  Marster  wuz  jes'  es  perlite  es  er  fiddler,  an' 
he  sorter  look  out  de  ca'iage  winder,  so  es  ter  per- 
ten'  not  ter  see  Marse  George  holdin'  Miss  Isabel's 
han's.  Dey  didn'  seem  ter  mine  me,  but  dey  seem 
ter  want  ole  Marster  ter  look  de  yother  way,  an'  so 
he  did.  When  he  got  home,  it  wuz  jes'  'bout 
breakfas'  time,  an'  Aunt  Becky  she  done  set  de 
table  an'  'range  eve'ything  nice  an'  fine,  fer  ole 
Marster  had  done  give  de  order  'fo'  dey  bring  de 
ca'iage  roun'  fer  him  ter  pursue  us.  Well,  I  wuz 
terrible  shuck  up  f'um  de  ride;  I  wuz  mos'  daid, 
an'  I  corned  mighty  nigh  dyin',  I  kin  tell  you. 
Sometimes  I  wishes  I  had,  honey,  fer  de  trouble 
what  come  ter  me  atterwards  wuz  wors'  dan  def. 
Yassum,  dat  it  wuz. 

44  Well,  when  de  breakfas'  wuz  over — an'  hit  wuz 
a  mighty  cur'ous  one,  I  kin  tell  you — ole  Marse  he 
say  he  wish  fer  ter  speak  wid  Cap'n  Franklin  in  de 
liberry.  Miss  Bell  she  went  ter  de  drawin'  room  fer 
ter  wait  while  dey  talked  in  de  liberry. 

44  Ole  Marster  wuz  stan'in'  by  er  table  when 

[55] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Marse  George  walked  in  an'  on  de  table,  honey, 
wuz  two  big  horse  pistils — all  loaded  an'  set. 

"  fi  You  is  insulted  my  honor,'  'sclaimed  ole  Mars- 
ter,  c  an'  I  'spects  you  ter  meet  me  at  de  bottom  uv 
de  garden  in  half  er  hour.' 

"  Well,  de  cap'n  thought  dat  ole  Marster  had 
done  fergive  him  when  he  fetched  us  all  home  so 
perlitely,  an'  he  wuz  so  'stonished  he  couldn'  speak. 

"  6  You  is  er  coward ! '  ole  Marster  'sclaimed 
ergin.  4 1  challenge  you  ter  fight,  sir,  an'  you  is 
afeered  ter  speak.' 

"  6  I'm  not  afeered,'  Marse  George  say  at  las', 
*  but  I  did  not  expec'  dis  ter  be  de  result  atter  yo' 
hospertal'ty — an'  besides,'  he  say,  6  you  is  ole  an' 
I  is  young,  an'  I  do  not  wan'  ter  take  advantage  of 
you,  sir.' 

"  6  Coward ! '  ole  Marster  'sclaimed  ergin.  '  You 
is  er  coward,  sir,  an'  unworthy  my  gran' daugh- 
ter. Def en' yo'se'f ! '  With  dat,  he  jucked  up  de 
pistil  an'  Marse  George  he  jucked  up  de  yuther, 
an'  de  nex'  minit  de  shots  runged  out.  An',  chile, 
when  we  got  in  dar,  de  cap'n  wuz  stretched  on  de 
flo'  wid  de  blood  comin'  f'um  er  hole  in  his  bre's' — 
an'  ole  Marster  wuz  stan'in'  over  him,  plum9  crazy! 
Yas,  chile,  he  wuz  plum'  crazy  when  he  wuz  actin' 
so  perlite  at  de  weddin'. 

[56] 


DAT  CHILE 


"  Lawd,  yassum,  chile,  de  cap'n,  he  died  wid  his 
haid  on  my  baby's  lap.  An'  he  tell  her  not  to 
griebe  an'  tole  her  how  it  all  wuz,  an',  chile,  dey 
found  out  atter  he  wuz  daid,  dat  he  never  shot  at 
ole  Marster  'tall — he  des'  p'int  his  pistil  at  de  wall, 
an'  de  bullet  is  right  dar  in  de  top  ceilin'  uv  de 
liberry  ter  dis  day. 

"No'm,  dey  didn'  do  nuffin  wid  ole  Marster — for 
he  never  knowed  nobody  f'um  dat  day  ter  de  day 
he  died.  He  wuz  stark  mad,  chile,  an'  Unc'  Peter 
had  ter  nuss  an'  watch  him  lak  er  chile,  an'  ter  de 
las'  he  wuz  talkin'  'bout  de  4  honor  uv  de  fam'ly.' 
But  Miss  Bell  wuz  de  one  to  break  my  heart.  She 
des  set  on  de  cap'n's  grabe,  day  in  an'  day  out,  an' 
wouldn'  say  nuffin'  'cep'in'  sometimes  she'd  sing; 
but  den  I  had  ter  go  whar  I  couldn'  hyar  her.  Hit 
wuz  de  lonesomes'  soun'in'  singin'  I  ever  hyard,  an' 
I  couldn'  stan'  it.  You  see,  Miss  Isabel  wuz  de 
light  uv  my  eyes,  an'  she  wuz  all  I  had,  an'  I  wuz 
all  she  had,  'cep'in'  Marse  George  an'  her  Gran'pa, 
an'  when  she  los'  bofe  uv  dem,  she  seem  ter  fergit 
her  po'  ole  Mammy.  She  des  set  dar  fixin'  flowers 
all  de  time,  an'  she  eat  so  little,  she  des  starve  ter 
def .  Yassum,  ter  be  sho'  she  died — dey  all  died — 
but  when  my  baby  went,  de  light  went  out,  an' 
my  trouble  done  come.  Hit  looked  lak  all  de  birds, 
[57] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

an'  all  de  sunshine  an'  all  de  flowers  done  gone  wid 
'er,  an'  nuffin'  but  darkness  done  settle  over  de  lan'. 
I  goes  ter  de  grabe-yard  an'  'ten's  ter  de  grabes, 
an'  sometimes  I  seem  ter  hyar  dat  chile  singin'  in  de 
magnolia-tree,  lak  she  sunged  when  er  chile,  an' 
den  I  seem  ter  hyar  'er  singin'  dat  lonesome  way  lak 
she  wuz  er  singin'  fer  her  daid  love — on  his  grabe 
— an'  sometimes  I  seem  ter  see  her  stan'in'  dar 
fixin'  flowers  ergin  an'  I  kin  hyar  her  des  as  plain 
sayin',  6  Sleep  well,  sleep  well,  sweet  be  dy  rerpose.* 
Den  she  disappears,  an'  I  don'  hyar  nuffin'  mo'  twell 
she  come  ergin.  Ef  you  will  come  an'  see  me  some 
evenin'  ergin,  honey,  jes'  erbout  dark,  I  will  show 
you  de  grabe-yard,  an'  maybe  you  kin  hyar  de 
sperit  uv  dat  chile,  singin'  dat  grabe-song,  6  Sleep 
well,  sweet  be  dy  rerpose.'  " 


[58] 


  JCi-y 

Uncle    Tom's  Matrimonial 
Difficulties 


Uncle  Tom's  Matrimonial 
Difficulties 


HERE  was  a  shuffling  sound  at  the  door, 


a  sound  as  of  many  feet  in  restless  col- 


lision  trying  in  vain  to  extricate  them- 
selves from  each  other.  But,  indeed,  it  was  only 
a  single  pair,  and  such  a  pair!  The  plantation 
shoemaker  had  never  been  able  to  give  a  number  to 
the  last  for  Uncle  Tom's  shoes ;  it  was  called  simply 
"  Uncle  Tom's  big  las' ;  "  and  though  plantation 
brogans  had  long  since  given  place  to  "  store 
boots,"  Uncle  Tom  still  patronized  the  shoemaker 
"  wid  de  big  las',"  for  store  shoes  were  impossible 
for  his  "  tremendous  understanding."  A  new  pair 
of  these  miniature  gunboats  adorned  the  feet  of 
Uncle  Tom  as  he  mounted  the  steps  of  the  mansion 
on  the  present  occasion.  He  was  trying  vainly  to 
tread  lightly  and  to  keep  back  the  squeaking  as 
he  turned  the  door-knob  of  the  house  of  Mr.  John 
Fairfax,  the  son  of  his  old  master,  now  at  rest. 

Mr.  Fairfax  had  said  "  come  in "  repeatedly, 
and  yet  many  minutes  went  by  before  Uncle  Tom 
seemed  to  be  able  to  manage  his  newly  broganed 


[61] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


feet  or  to  make  use  of  his  equally  big  hands  for  un- 
latching the  door.  With  a  much  confused  air  and 
many  apologies  for  the  late  interruption,  the  old 
man  pulled  his  forelock,  cleared  his  throat,  and 
stood  like  a  culprit  before  the  bar  of  justice. 

"  Well,  Uncle  Tom,"  said  the  young  lawyer, 
wondering  at  the  old  man's  embarrassment,  "  what 
can  I  do  for  you  this  evening?  " 

"  Ef  you  please,  Marse  John,"  the  old  man  re- 
plied, gratefully,  "  I  is  come  fer  ter  speak  wid  you 
on  de  cur'ous  axions  uv  Aunt  Becky."  Mr.  Fair- 
fax had  risen,  and,  taking  a  glass  from  the  table  of 
his  study,  filled  it  from  a  sparkling  decanter  and 
handed  it  to  his  father's  faithful  coachman  of  past 
days. 

"  That  will  help  you  to  brace  up,  Uncle  Tom," 
he  remarked.  "  You  seem  a  little  upset  this 
evening." 

"  Yas,  sir,  I  is,  thank  you,  thank  you,  Marse 
John ;  I  is  ve'y  much  obleeged  ter  you  fer  dis  dram, 
sir,  fer  I  is  powerful  wor'ied  dis  ebenin',  an'  dat's 
how  come  I  is  hyar  ter  ax  yo'  invice.  Lawdy, 
Marse  John,  dis  do  tase  lak  ole  times — I  feels  bet- 
ter a'ready,  thanky,  sir,  thanky.  What  dat  you 
say,  Marse  John?  Who  Aunt  Becky?  She's  my 
wife,  Marse  John,  an'  I  calls  'er  Aunt  Becky  kase 
[62] 


is  cum  fer  ter  speak  mid  you  on  de  cur'ous  axiom 
uv  Aunt  Becky  " 


TOM'S  MATRIMONIAL  DIFFICULTIES 


I  had  growe.d  up  ter  call  'er  dat  'fo'  I  ma'ied  'er, 
an'  I  does  so  yit  out  uv  'spec'  ter  'er  aige. 

"You  see,  Marse  John,  I  is  bin  in  de  ma'iage 
business  more'n  onct.  De  fus'  time  I  got  ma'ied  I 
tuk  de  bes'  lookin'  yaller  gal  on  de  plantation,  an' 
we  wuz  gittin'  'long  well  'nuff  twell  dat  long- 
laiged  banjo-picker,  Ned  Wilkins,  come  erlong,  an' 
de  fus'  thing  I  knowed,  Nancy  (yas,  sir,  dat  wuz 
her  name)  done  'loped  off  wid  Ned.  Well,  de  nex' 
time  I  ma'ied  I  tuk  de  blackes'  gal  I  could  fin',  an' 
she  would  'er  done  mighty  well  but  she  tuk  an'  died 
an'  lef  me  wid  ten  chillun  ter  keep  keer  uv,  an'  de 
younges'  one  jes'  a  baby;  so  I  looked  erroun'  fer 
ter  s'ply  'em  wid  er  mammy,  an'  in  two  weeks'  time 
I  axed  a  mejum  colored  gal,  des  half  yaller  an'  half 
black,  an'  she  'cepted  me  ve'y  willin',  but  f'um  de 
fus'  day  she  an'  de  chillun  couldn'  'gree.  Dey  fit 
an'  dey  fought  an'  made  things  so  lively  'roun' 
de  house,  I  was  jes'  'bleeged  ter  stay  'way  all  I 
could. 

44  An'  one  day  when  I  git  home,  I  found  dat 
Tildy  (yas,  sir,  dat  wuz  her  name)  done  pack  her 
things  an'  lef  me  an'  ma'ied  somebody  else.  So 
dar  I  wuz,  Marse  John,  in  er  bad  fix  ergin,  an'  had 
ter  turn  my  'tention  ter  de  sitywation,  so  I  des' 
made  up  my  mine  ter  let  de  young  gals  erlone,  an' 

[63] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


ter  git  one  ole  'nuff  ter  ten'  ter  her  business  an'  de 
chillun  an'  not  be  lookin'  at  de  odder  mens. 

"  I  looked  all  'roun',  but  dar  wa'n'  no  one  what 
I  seem  ter  set  my  fancy  on.  No,  sir,  na'y  one.  So 
one  day  Br'er  Simon  call  my  'tention  ter  Aunt 
Becky,  He  say  how  dat  Aunt  Becky  would  suit 
de  'casion  fus'  class.  Dat  she  wuz  er  fine  cook  an' 
de  bes'  han'  on  de  place  fer  raisin'  chillun,  do'  she 
ain'  never  is  had  none  uv  her  own.  Kase  you  know, 
Marse  John,  no  one  ain'  never  axed  her  ter  de  altar 
befo'.  Hit  tuk  me  mighty  nigh  a  week  ter  settle 
de  matter  in  my  own  mine,  kaze  Aunt  Becky  ain' 
much  ter  look  at  noways,  but  de  chillun  fret  me  so, 
I  made  my  mine  up  ter  shet  my  eyes  an'  take  'er. 

"An'  f'um  de  ve'y  fus',  Marse  John,  de  house 
look  lak  bran'  new.  De  ole  soul  seem  so  grateful 
fer  ter  git  ma'ied,  she  seem  ter  git  young,  an'  she 
an'  de  chillun  took  ter  one  nurr  f'um  de  start. 
Marse  John,  Aunt  Becky  is  sutny  done  well  by  de 
chillun.  She  done  riz  eve'y  one  uv  um  up,  an'  larnt 
'um  how  ter  cook  an'  clean  an'  do  mos'  eve'ything, 
an'  she  sutny  is  bin  er  good  cook.  I  ain'  had  no 
fault  ter  find  kase  de  greens  was  so  good  an'  greasy 
hit  makes  my  mouf  water  ter  des  talk  erbout  'um. 
But  you  see,  Marse  John,  de  chillun  is  all  growed 
up  now  an'  mos'  uv  'um  is  done  ma'ied  an'  lef,  an' 

[64] 


TOM'S  MATRIMONIAL  DIFFICULTIES 


Aunt  Becky  she  ain'  es  young  es  she  wuz,  an'  she 
boss  me  so ;  de  long  an'  short  uv  it  is,  I  is  fixin'  f  er 
ter  git  me  an'urr  wife.  No,  sir,  Marse  John,  I 
ain'  shame' :  de  white  folks  does  dat  way,  an'  we  is 
free  ter  git  'vorcements  too,  but  you  see  Aunt 
Becky  she  is  onreasonable ;  she  is  actin'  mos'  on- 
grateful  an'  scand'lous. 

"  She  is  done  got  eve'y  one  uv  my  chillun  sot 
ag'in  me  an'  dey  th' eaten  ter  conger  de  gal  what  I 
got  in  my  mind,  an'  say  how  dey  gwine  hab  me 
'rested  an'  put  in  jail.  I  never  had  so  much 
trouble  sence  I  wuz  born,  an'  I  come  ter  see  ef  you 
can'  he'p  me  out.  Yas,  sir,  Marse  John,  I  is  putty 
hard  gone  on  Fanny  (dat's  her  name)  ;  she's  sich 
er  likely  gal  an'  es  frisky  es  er  young  sheep,  an' — 
an' — I  can'  sleep  fer  thinkin'  'bout  her.  I  done 
buy  'er  de  reddes'  caliky  frock  I  kin  fine  in  de 
sto' ;  hit  fairly  put  yo'  eyes  out  ter  look  at  it,  hit 
so  red ;  an'  I  is  done  got  her  er  ring  wid  de  bigges' 
glass  set  in  it  I  could  fine  in  de  town.  Hit  cos'  me 
two  bits  in  silber. 

"  I  done  tole  Aunt  Becky  dat  I  would  let  'er  keep 
de  spinnin'  wheel  an'  de  new  cyards  an'  de  new 
sifter,  an'  eve'y  thing  mos',  an'  dat  she  could  live  in 
de  shed  room  an'  he'p  wid  de  work.  But  de  way 
she  rar'  an'  charge  hit  ain'  safe  ter  be  in  de  house 
[65] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

wid  her,  so  I  done  'cided  ter  leave  'er  an'  de  chil- 
lun — dem  what  ain'  ma'ied — an'  I  is  gwine  ter  live 
wid  Fanny's  folks.  What  dat  you  say,  Marse 
John?  Git  'vorcement?  Yas,  sir,  dat's  what  I'm 
hyar  f er  dis  minit,  so  she  can'  have  me  'rested  an' 
put  no  conger  on  Fanny.  Bless  de  Lawd,  Marse 
John,  I  knowed  you  could  fix  it.  Yas,  sir,  I'll  call 
ergin  nex'  week,  yas,  sir.  Thanky,  Marse  John,  I 
gwine  see  de  Jedge  tomorrer  ef  I  live." 

A  week  after,  the  same  shuffling  sound  announced 
another  visit  from  Uncle  Tom,  who,  looking  sadder 
and  more  perplexed,  excused  himself  by  saying: 

"  Jes'  er  word,  Marse  John,  ef  you  please,  sir. 
I  is  come  ter  tell  you  'bout  de  way  Fanny  done 
serve  me.  Des'  es  soon  es  she  git  her  han's  on  dat 
caliky  frock  an'  de  ring  wid  de  big  set,  she  done 
sont  me  'er  imperdent  letter  what  Uncle  Simon  done 
spell  out  ter  me.  It  say  dat  she  an'  dat  good-fer- 
nothin'  Andy  done  run  erway  an'  git  ma'ied.  Dat 
all  she  wanted  wuz  ter  git  de  red  frock  an'  de  ring, 
dat  she  ain'  had  no  notion  uv  ma'in'  her  gran'pa  ef 
her  gran'pa  did  marry  his  gran'ma,  an' — an' — an' 
— she's  done  lef '  me  an'  I  is  mos'  'stracted. 

"  I  done  see  de  Jedge  an'  wuz  'rangin'  fer  de 
'vorcement  papers  an'  de  lisum,  an'  I  is  even  paid 
de  preacher  in  ervance,  an'  now  she  won'  hab  me. 

[66] 


TOM'S  MATRIMONIAL  DIFFICULTIES 


But  dat  ain'  de  wors'.  I  'spected  ter  git  ma'ied  dis 
ebenin',  an'  I  done  move  over  ter  Fanny's  people, 
an'  sence  Fanny  done  run  erway,  dey  is  turnt  me 
out  an'  I  ain'  got  no  whar  ter  go,  an'  I  is  in  a  wors' 
fix  dan  ebber. 

"  I  went  back  ter  my  own  home,  an'  bless  de 
Lawd!  Aunt  Becky  done  lock  an'  bar  de  do'  on 
me,  an'  she  an'  de  chillun  all  inside  dar  larffin'  at 
me,  an'  say  dey  ain'  gwine  le'  me  come  home  no 
mo' ;  dat  dey'll  hab  me  'rested  ergin  ef  I  breaks  de 
do'  open  an'  will  scald  me  wid  hot  water,  an'  dey  is 
actin'  mos'  scan'lous,  an'  I  is  come  ter  see  ef  dar 
ain'  no  other  paper  what  I  kin  sign  dat  kin  he'p  me 
out  an'  make  Aunt  Becky  berhabe  herse'f  an'  le'  me 
come  home.  Lawd,  Marse  John,  what  makes  you 
larf  so?  I  is  so  miser'ble!  Ef  you  will  jes'  he'p 
me  out  onct  mo',  I  gwine  fotch  you  de  bigges' 
water-million  I  kin  raise  in  my  patch  nex'  year,  an' 
de  fus'  possum  what  go  up  de  'simmon  tree  dis  fall. 

"  Yas,  sir,  I  promise !  Yas,  sir,  I  sutny  swear 
I  gwine  let  'lone  gittin'  ma'ied  ergin  an'  jes'  try 
ter  make  out  wid  Aunt  Becky  to  de  een,  fer  she 
sutny  is  er  good  cook. 

"  I  knowed  you'd  fix  it,  Marse  John,  for  I  hyar 
tell  dat  you  lawyers  kin  fix  sich  matters  any  way  de 
men  wants,  an'  dat  how  come  I  ter  talk  wid  you. 
[67] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


"You  gwine  see  Aunt  Becky?  Yas,  sir,  I'll — 
I'll  give  you  my  word,  I'll  stick  ter  'er  ef  it  kills 
me.  Dat  I  will.  Thanky,  Marse  John,  thanky, 
sir.  I  sho'  gwine  'member  dat  water-million  an' 
dat  possum." 


[68] 


Ole  Bline  Hannah 


Ole  Bline  Hannah 


AUNT  HANNAH  RANDALL,  or  "ole 
bline  Hannah,"  as  she  was  called,  was  said 
to  be  a  witch.  At  any  rate,  she  could 
"  conger  "  people  and  put  them  under  "  spells," 
and  even  though  totally  blind  and  completely  help- 
less from  the  effects  of  rheumatism  and  old  age, 
everybody  on  the  plantation  was  afraid  of  her. 
Aunt  Hannah  lived  alone  in  her  own  cabin,  having 
outlived  her  husband  and  all  of  her  children;  the 
latter,  however,  died  while  young.  There  were 
some  who  whispered  that  Aunt  Hannah  had  not 
taken  care  of  them  as  she  should  have  done  and  was 
in  some  way  responsible  for  their  early  departure 
from  this  world.  But  no  one  dared  to  breathe  it 
aloud  for  fear  of  being  conger ed.  Though  alone 
and  without  a  family  to  care  for  her,  blind  Hannah 
lived  better  than  anyone  else  on  the  place.  She 
called  on  anybody  and  everybody  for  whatever  she 
wanted.  At  first  her  helplessness  had  appealed  to 
the  tender  hearts  of  the  negroes,  and  coupled  with 
the  influence  she  held  over  their  superstitious  nat- 
ures by  her  accredited  powers  of  witchcraft,  the  old 
crone  soon  realized  the  importance  of  her  position 

[71] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


and  ruled  her  subjects  with  a  rod  of  red-hot  iron. 
Her  wants  and  demands  were  made  too  in  the  form 
of  prognostications.  She  would  sing  out  so  all 
could  hear  her,  "  Sis'  Becky  gwine  bring  my  brek- 
f as'  in  de  mornin' ;  I  sees  fried  chicken,  an'  I  smells 
fatty  bread." 

That  was  no  less  than  an  order  for  breakfast — 
and  no  one  dared  to  forget  the  notice.  In  the  same 
way,  she  would  sing  out  (if  she  heard  footsteps 
passing)  :  "  Sis'  Tildy  gwine  scrub  an'  clean  my 
house  fer  me  ter-day — an'  I  see  Sis'  Mandy 
mendin'  up  my  clo'es — an'  I  smells  fresh  buttermilk 
f  'urn  de  house."  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  news 
was  carried  around  the  quarters  at  once,  and  even  a 
message  was  sent  to  "  de  house  "  to  tell  Mrs.  Ran- 
dall that  blind  Hannah  wanted  buttermilk.  In 
that  way  the  old  woman  was  fed,  clothed,  and  kept 
clean.  Her  bucket  was  always  filled  with  fresh 
water  from  the  spring,  and  her  yard  was  kept 
swept  cleaner  than  any  other  in  the  quarters.  In 
the  evening,  Aunt  Hannah  always  had  a  gathering 
of  friends  in  her  cabin.  Everybody  wanted  to 
hear  Aunt  Hannah  talk.  Her  "  experiences  "  were 
a  never-ending  source  of  wonder  and  her  visions 
the  most  mysterious  ever  heard  of.  And  then  again 
the  fear  of  spells  of  "  conger  "  which  she  some- 

[72] 


OLE  BLINE  HANNAH 


times  cast  over  those  undutiful  to  her,  charmed 
many  a  one  to  her  circle  who  would  have  gladly 
stayed  away. 

But  Aunt  Hannah  was  quick  to  ask,  "  Whar  is 
Sis'  Lucy?  "  or  "  Whar  is  Br'er  Jake?  "  And  if 
"  Sis'  Lucy  "  or  "  Br'er  Jake  "  were  to  be  taken 
unexpectedly  with  a  chill,  or  have  a  little  mishap 
of  any  kind,  it  would  immediately  be  rumored  that 
"  ole  bline  Hannah  done  cas'  er  spell  on  'em,  kaze 
dey  didn'  go  ter  see  her."  And  so  it  was,  that 
while  despising  her  and  afraid  of  her,  the  entire 
plantation  was  at  her  feet  in  abject  slavery. 

Her  domineering  selfishness  was  almost  unbear- 
able at  times,  and  many  a  rancoring  heart  wished 
her  in  the  other  world,  and  especially  the  hearts  of 
the  plantation  children.  They  couldn't  do  any- 
thing without  some  interference  from  old  Hannah, 
and  they  dared  not  "  sass  "  her  for  fear  of  "  de 
spell." 

Poor  "  Little  Joe  "  hated  her  most  of  all.  One 
day  he  came  from  a  long  day's  fishing  with  his 
one  treasured  prize  tucked  inside  his  ragged  jacket, 
for  Aunt  Hannah  could  smell  if  she  couldn't  see, 
and  so  he  held  it  tightly  inside  and  skirted  the  cab- 
in of  the  witch  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  garden, 
and  was  creeping  by  to  his  home  a  few  cabins 

[73] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


away,  when  his  poor  little  heart  stood  still  as  the 
well-known  screech  of  the  old  crone  called  out, 
"  Is  dat  you,  Joe?" 

The  cracking  of  a  tiny  twig  underfoot  had  be- 
trayed "  Little  Joe,"  even  though  creeping  by  with 
his  most  cautious  tread. 

"  Is  dat  you,  Joe  ?  "  she  called  out  again.  "  How 
many  fish  you  got  dar?  " 

Now  Joe  had  never  mentioned  his  intention  of 
going  fishing,  and  his  woolly  naps  would  have 
stood  up  on  end  had  it  been  possible  for  them  to  un- 
kink,  for  it  was  a  terrible  mystery  to  him  how  Aunt 
Hannah  could  have  detected  his  tread  and  the  fact 
of  his  having  gone  fishing  when  he  had  told  no 
one,  not  even  his  Mammy,  and  when  he  had  so  care- 
fully held  his  prize  under  the  ragged  jacket  on  the 
further  side  from  Aunt  Hannah's  direction. 

"  Little  Joe  "  stood  still  at  the  question,  a  chilly 
sensation  ran  up  and  down  his  back — while  his 
wool,  as  before  stated,  felt  a  strong  desire  to  un- 
kink. 

"  I — I — des  got  one,  Aunt  Hannah,  an' — an'  I 
wuz  bringin'  it  ter  you  for  yo'  supper,"  he  replied 
as  soon  as  he  could  catch  breath. 

"  Dat's  er  lie,"  Aunt  Hannah  responded.  "  I 
know  dat's  er  lie,  fer  I  hyeard  you  sneakin'  by, 

[74] 


Poor  little  Joe 


OLE  BLINE  HANNAH 


tryin'  ter  make  b'lieve  'twarn'  eben  you.  I  kin 
hyar  an'  kin  smell  ef  I  is  blin\  Jes'  you  bring  'im 
here  an'  Ma'y  Jane — yas,  I  sees  Ma'y  Jane  fryin' 
'im  fer  me  right  now.  What  kine  uv  er  fish  is 
it?" 

"  Hit's  er  cat-fish,  an'  hit's  er  big  one  at  dat," 
said  Joe  with  an  effort  at  being  polite. 

Aunt  Hannah  took  hold  of  the  sticky  thing  and 
smelled  it  closely  and  carefully. 

"  Whar  dat  squr'l  I  smells  dat's  been  'long  side 
uv  dis  fish  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  'Tain'  no  use  fer 
ter  lie,  kaze  I  knows  you'se  got  'im  tucked  erway 
in  yo'  pocket." 

"  Hit  ain'  no  'count,"  Joe  answered,  feebly. 
"  Hit's  des  er  young  one." 

"Hit's  good  'nough  fur  me,'9  replied  Aunt 
Hannah.  "  Des  you  han'  'im  out,  an'  I  see  Ma'y 
Jane  bilin'  'im  right  now  wid  some  new  I'sh 
taters.  I  'low  I  gwine  git  er  good  game  feas'  fer 
onct." 

Joe  was  choking  with  inward  rage  and  grief — 
his  childish  disappointment  was  so  mingled  with 
indignation  that  he  could  hardly  control  the  sobs 
that  rose  to  his  throat.  He  dared  not,  however, 
show  the  slightest  hesitation,  and  so  pulling  out  the 
tiny  squirrel  which  he  had  tucked  even  more  closely 
[75] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

away,  he  handed  it  over  to  the  woman  and  bravely 
whistled  as  he  walked  away  for  fear  Aunt  Han- 
nah would  divine  his  feelings  and  cast  a  spell  on 
him.  He  stopped  at  Mary  Jane's  to  say  "  ole 
bline  Hannah."  That  was  notice  enough  to  Mary 
Jane,  for  she  well  knew  it  to  be  a  "  comman'  f'um 
de  witch,"  and  so  she  immediately  went  to  receive 
her  orders  about  cooking  the  "  game  feas'." 

Mary  Jane  was  one  of  the  motherly  matrons  of 
the  quarters.  She  was  good-natured,  kind-hearted 
— and  fat.  She  was  a  good  cook  and  she  loved  to 
eat.  She  was  ever  willing  to  prepare  a  meal  for 
the  witch,  as  she  generally  got  a  bite  for  herself. 
She  hurried  along  to  do  the  bidding,  while  poor 
Little  Joe  trudged  sadly  homeward. 

"  I  wish  de  debble  would  ketch  'er,"  he  re- 
marked as  he  flung  himself  down  on  his  Mammy's 
cabin  floor. 

"  De  debble  wouldn't  hab  'er,"  his  Mammy  re- 
plied, for  Aunt  Nancy  divined  that  something 
was  the  matter  with  Little  Joe,  and  she  needed  no 
explanation  of  the  cause  of  his  grief,  after  he 
made  the  remark. 

Nobody  but  the  "  witch  "  ever  molested  her  crip- 
pled boy — for  Joe  was  a  small  hunchback — and 
that  was  the  cause  of  his  being  called  "  little." 

[76] 


OLE  BLINE  HANNAH 


"What  'id  she  git  out'n  you  dis  time,  Joe?" 
asked  the  mother,  with  a  tender  solicitude  in  her 
voice. 

"  De  onl'es'  fish  I  kotch  an'  de  onl'es'  squr'l " 
sobbed  the  boy. 

"  Dat  do  seem  hard,"  remarked  Aunt  Nancy. 
"  But  I  reckon  dar's  mo'  fish  in  de  creek,  an'  mo* 
squr'ls  in  de  trees;  an'  de  nex'  time  you  mus'  des 
cut  ercross  de  bottom  an'  come  up  dis  een  uv  de 
quarters — den  she  kyan'  smell  'um." 

"  Dat's  des'  what  I  done,"  sobbed  Joe,  still  bit- 
terly crying.  "  I  crope  by  des  es  still  es  er  mouse, 
but  Aunt  Hannah  gwine  hyar  you  no  matter  how 
still  you  is.  I  des  hope  dem  fish-bones  will  choke 
'er  ter  def !" 

"  You  gwine  git  congered,  fus'  thing  you  know, 
boy.  Ole  bline  Hannah  ain'  no  witch  f er  nuffin' — 
you  better  look  out  what  you  say  'bout  'er.  Dar 
comes  Unc'  Sy,  right  now.  You'd  better  shet  yo' 
mouf,  I  kin  tell  you." 

"  How  you  do,  Br'er  Silas !  "  she  exclaimed  cor- 
dially as  Uncle  Sy  stepped  briskly  and  suddenly 
up  to  the  door-step. 

"  I  is  well  myse'f,  thank  you — how  you  do,  Sis' 
Nancy,"  he  replied,  politely.  "  What  dat  I  hyar? 
Who  dat?  Dat  you,  Joe?  What  de  matter? 
[77] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


You  ain't  sick,  is  you?  "  he  asked  kindly,  seeing  the 
child  in  tears. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Joe,  "  but  I  ain'  ve'y  power- 
ful well,  Unc'  Sy.    I  is  been  in  de  hot  sun  all  day." 

"  Well,  you  better  take  my  in-vice  an'  stay  out'n 
de  sun  all  you  kin  dis  season,  fer  de  chills  is  er 
gittin'  mighty  bad,  I  hearn  tell,"  said  Uncle  Silas. 

Little  Joe  grew  more  quiet  as  he  stretched  him- 
self on  the  floor  and  kept  his  eyes  shut  as  he  lay 
there  thinking. 

Uncle  Silas  glanced  at  him  every  now  and  then, 
for  he  was  very  fond  of  the  boy.  He  leaned  back 
in  the  best  split-bottom  chair,  and  conversed  with 
"  Sis'  Nancy  "  while  she  patched  away  on  Joe's 
Sunday  breeches,  quite  cheerfully,  considering  the 
size  of  the  patches  and  the  number  of  the  holes. 

All  of  a  sudden  Uncle  Silas  cleared  his  throat 
quite  hastily  as  if  suddenly  remembering  what  had 
brought  him  to  the  cabin. 

"  I  declar,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  is  done  cl'ar  forgot 
to  tell  you  'bout  Sis'  Hannah,  Sis'  Nancy.  Is  you 
hyard  de  news  ?  " 

"  Hyard  what  news?  What  is  you  talkin'  'bout, 
Br'er  Sy?  "  asked  Sis'  Nancy. 

"  Why,  de  ole  bline  sister  is  erbout  ter  choke  ter 
def  wid  er  bone  in  'er  frote,  I  hyard  tell  es  I  come 
[78] 


OLE  BLINE  HANNAH 


erlong,  an'  Marse  Tom  is  done  come  over  wid  de 
toof  pinchers,  fer  ter  pull  it  out,  but  he  can'  git  er 
hoi'  uv  it,  an'  I  spec'  we  gwine  hab  er  fun'al." 

Poor  Joe !  he  was  not  responsible  for  the  smile  of 
satisfaction  that  lit  up  his  ugly  little  black  face. 
He  turned  his  head  so  that  Uncle  Silas  wouldn't  ob- 
serve the  effect  of  his  words. 

"  I  'clar'  ter  goodness !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Nancy, 
"  I  'clar'  ter  goodness — dat  look  lak  er  conger, 
Br'er  Sy." 

"  Hit  sho'  do,"  replied  her  guest.  "  Hit  sho' 
do,  an'  I  wouldn'  lak  ter  be  de  one  ter  conger  de 
witch,  kaze  ef  she  lives,  she'll  put  de  wus'  spell  on 
dem,  an'  ef  she  dies,  her  sperit  gwine  ter  ha'nt  'urn 
fer  de  res'  uv  dar  days." 

The  smile  died  out  of  Little  Joe's  features;  he 
turned  first  cold,  and  then  hot,  and  then  began  to 
shake  with  a  chill. 

"  What's  de  matter,  Joe  ?  "  asked  the  mother, 
seeing  an  unusual  agitation  in  the  little  limp  figure 
on  the  floor.    "  What's  de  matter,  honey  ?  " 

"  I  wishes  I  nebber  had  er  gone  fishin',"  sobbed 
the  boy.  "  I  never  meant  no  wrong  an'  I  nebber 
'grudged  Aunt  Hannah  ef  I  was  mad." 

"  Wuz  dat  you  what  gib  'er  de  fish,  Joe  ?  "  asked 
Uncle  Sy,  bending  over  the  boy.  "  Well,  le'  me  tell 
[79] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


you,  sonny,  what's  er  fac'.  Hit  ain'  yo'  fault  an' 
hit  ain'  you  what  is  congered  Aunt  Hannah;  dat 
fish  wuz  de  caus'  uv  de  conger — kaze  she  nebber  had 
no  biz'niss  takin'  hit  erway  f'um  er  hunchback  ef 
she  is  bline,  an'  whoever  it  is  what's  done  congered 
Sis'  Hannah  ain'  got  no  grudge  'ginst  you.  So 
you  needn'  be  'feer'd." 

The  comforting  words  acted  like  a,  charm  on 
Little  Joe.  He  sat  up  with  a  hopeful,  happy  look 
on  his  face. 

"  Den  I  hopes  she'll  die  sho',"  he  exclaimed. 
"Unc'  Sy,  dat  fish  wuz  de  putties'  fish  I  ever  kotch, 
an'  dat  squr'l  wuz  de  fattes'  squr'l  I  eber  seen." 
The  memory  of  his  disappointment  brought  the 
tears  again  to  the  surface. 

"  Dat's  er  unfergibin'  sperit,  Joe,"  remarked 
Aunt  Nancy.  "  We  mus'  fergibe,  ef  we  eber 
'spec's  ter  be  fergiben.  I  prays  dat  de  Lord  will 
hab  mussy  on  her  soul,  fer  Sis'  bline  Hannah  has 
been  er  miz'ry  ter  de  plantation  long  'nough — an' 
I  hopes  de  Lord  gwine  ter  take  'er  an'  hab  mussy 
on  'er  soul." 

"  Dat's  what  we  all  hopes,"  remarked  fat  Mary 
Jane,  who  arrived  at  the  door  just  as  Aunt  Nancy 
made  her  last  remark.  "  Dat's  what  we  all  hopes, 
an'  I  is  come  ter  tell  you  dat  Sis'  bline  Hannah  is 
[80] 


OLE  BLINE  HANNAH 

done  choked  ter  def ,  an'  we  hopes  de  Lord  gwine 
hab  mussy  on  'er  soul. 

"  Br'er  Sy,"  she  continued,  "  you  is  invited  ter 
de  '  settin'-up.'  Marse  Tom  is  done  loant  us  two 
gre't  big  silber  dollars  fer  ter  lay  on  'er  eyes — 
kaze  dey  half  open  an'  am'  shet  good;  and  Miss 
Sally  done  sont  us  er  nice  new  nightgown  fer  de 
swoud. 

"  We  is  done  laid  'er  on  de  coolin'  boa'd  an'  I'se 
done  put  de  coffee  on  ter  bile — an'  so  des'  es  soon 
es  you  gits  ready,  you  an'  Sis'  Nancy  kin  jine  us 
fer  ter  set  up  at  de  watchin'.  Hit's  gwine  ter  be 
de  bigges'  fun'al  ever  seed  in  de  quarters,  fer  no- 
body ain'  gwine  risk  bein'  congered  by  stayin' 
erway,  I  kin  tell  you." 

The  removal  of  blind  Hannah  was  a  relief  and  a 
rest  to  the  whole  plantation,  notwithstanding  which 
fact  the  funeral  was  the  biggest  and  the  weeping 
the  loudest  ever  known  or  heard  in  the  quarters. 

It  seemed  impossible  to  make  grief  enough  over 
the  departed  sister.  But  gradually  the  loud  la- 
ments over  her  sorrowful  end  ceased  and  the  rest- 
less dread  of  her  "  conger,"  and  the  "  spells  "  it 
was  feared  she  had  left,  disappeared  from  the 
minds  of  the  superstitious. 

Little  Joe  got  well  of  the  chills  which  had  really 
[81] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

taken  hold  of  him  on  the  day  of  the  fishing,  and 
even  became  venturesome  enough  to  speak  of  his 
"  las'  gif '  ter  Aunt  Hannah." 

In  this  way,  perhaps,  the  death  of  the  old  witch 
became  associated  with  Joe's  "  las'  gif  "  and  the 
cripple  boy  became  in  consequence  a  greater  favor- 
ite than  ever  on  the  plantation.  No  one  ever  both- 
ered the  little  humpback  again,  and  there  was 
always  a  kind  word  of  welcome  when  it  was  an- 
nounced, "  Dar  comes  Li'l  Joe  whose  fish-bone  done 
kill  ole  bline  Hannah." 

The  two  silver  dollars  which  Marse  Tom  donated 
to  help  close  the  eyes  of  the  old  woman  were  given 
to  Little  Joe,  as  a  compensation,  we  presume,  for 
the  loss  of  the  fish  that  proved  so  effectual  in  its  sad 
mission.  Little  Joe  kept  the  two  great  big  silver 
dollars  tied  in  an  old  rag  around  his  neck,  and 
whenever  he  felt  particularly  friendly  he  would 
display  his  hoarded  fortune  and  tell  you  about  his 
"  las'  gif  "  and  how  the  money  had  been  "  giv'  him 
by  Marse  Tom  fer  ter  keep  in  'membrance  uv  ole 
bline  Hannah." 


[82] 


"Er  White   Horse  Turnt 
Loose  " 


"Er  White    Horse  Turnt 
Loose  " 

A  PLANTATION  SERMON 

Preached  in  the  Bethlehem  Chapel,  Near  Greens- 
boro, Ala, 

(i  V  "V  E  tex'  uv  my  summon  dis  ebenin',  is  tex' 
1  number  two  uv  de  Reberlations : 
— ^      "  4  Er  white  horse  turnt  loose  in  heb- 
ben  an'  de  reins  thow'd  ober  his  nake,  an'  you  kin 
hyar  de  soun'  uv  his  hoofs  echoin'  ter  Goshum.' 

"  My  Bredren',  I  know  you  all  am'  gwine  be  sat- 
isfied wid  my  preachin'  ter-night,  fur  I  is  sufferin' 
wid  de  ho'seness  uv  my  th'oat,  kaze  I  done  preached 
at  Cedarhill  las'  night,  an'  night  befo' ;  so  you  kin 
see,  dat  I  is  putty  well  wo'  out.  Now,  my  Bredren 
an'  my  Sistren,  John,  he  was  de  great  Revealer, 
Ef  de  Lord  hadn'  said,  '  John,  seal  up  and  don't 
write  no  mo','  I  am  satisfied  dat  we'd  er  knowed  de 
ve'y  hour,  yas,  my  Bredren,  de  ve'y  minit,  we  wuz 
gwine  ter  die. 

"  Now,  de  Lord,  he  mounted  de  horse  wid  de 
seven  horns  an'  rode  thoo  de  streets  uv  hebben,  an* 
I  see  er  th'one  wid  fo'  an'  twenty  Elders  er  settin* 
[85] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

roun'  an'  I  hyar  de  beas'  hoofs  echoin'  thoo  de 
streets  unter  Goshum. 

"  Now,  my  Bredren,  Gawd  He  made  all  de 
beas'es  an'  things,  an'  He  put  man  on  de  ve'y  top 
uv  de  ladder,  an'  he  wuz  de  mos'  disobedient  uv 
'em  all.  He  made  man  wid  two  hund'ed  an'  eight 
bones  an'  forty-th'ee  element'ry  sounds,  an'  th'ee 
senses,  an'  He  completed  man  by  makin'  him  de 
third  pusson  in  de  Trin'ty. 

"  An'  es  de  beas'  rode  on  de  white  horse,  wid  de 
reins  thow'd  over  his  nake,  an'  his  hoofs  echoin' 
ter  Goshum,  he  seen  de  two  hund'ed  an'  eight  bones, 
an'  de  forty-th'ee  element'ry  sounds,  an'  de  th'ee 
senses. 

"  My  Bredren,  hit  would  be  onpossible  fer  us  ter 
pictur'  in  our  min's  how  dem  'Postles  an'  saints  uv 
de  ole  times  suffered. 

"  Dem  folkses  what  lived  in  dem  times  corned 
erlong  one  day,  dey  did,  an'  went  up  ter  ole  Br'er 
Thomas  wid  er  tommyhock  in  dar  han's,  an'  dey 
say, '  Ole  Thomas,  what  def  does  you  wan'  ter  die  ?  ' 
An'  Ole  Thomas,  he  say,  '  It  don'  make  no  diff '- 
ence  ter  me  how  I  dies.  I  jes'  as  soon  die  by  de 
tommyhock  es  any  'urr  way ; '  an'  my  Bredren,  dey 
tommyhocked  Ole  Thomas  ter  def  an'  dey  kilt  him. 
Den  dey  comes  up  ter  ole  Br'er  Peter  an'  say, 

[86] 


"ER  WHITE  HORSE  TURNT  LOOSE" 


4  What  def  does  you  wan'  ter  die  ?  '  an'  Ole  Peter, 
he  say,  4  I  don'  keer ;  hit  don'  make  no  diff'ence  ter 
me  how  I  dies.'    An'  dey  kilt  Ole  Peter. 

"  Den  dey  comes  up  ter  John,  de  Revealer,  an' 
ast  him,  4  What  def  does  you  wan'  ter  die? '  An' 
Ole  John  say  he  wuz  ready  ter  go  when  de  Lord 
called  him. 

"  An'  den,  my  Bredren,  dem  peoples  tuk  John, 
de  great  Revealer,  an'  dey  flung  him  into  er  pot  uv 
bilin'  oil  an'  eve'y  time  de  great  Revealer  bob'd  up 
an'  befo'  dey  could  push  him  back  wid  dey  pitch- 
forks, he  lif  his  voice  up  ter  Hebben  an'  say, 
4  Lord,  hit  don'  make  no  diff'ence  ter  me  how  I 
dies.' 

44  But  dey  couldn'  kill  dat  gre't  Revealer,  kaze 
while  dey  wan'  lookin',  Ole  John  lipt  out  uv  de  pot 
an'  runned  off  ter  Patty mos. 

44  Now,  my  Bredren  an'  Sistren,  when  Ole  John 
got  ter  Pattymos,  he  seen  wile  beas'es  tearin'  up  an' 
down  an'  all  roun'  'im  an'  he  lif  up  his  voice  ter  de 
Lord  ag'in  an'  say,  4  Lord,  hit  don'  make  no  diff'- 
ence ter  me  how  I  dies.' 

44  An'  oh !  my  f r'en's,  de  Lord  he  hyard  Ole 
John,  an'  he  sont  down  er  charrit.  wid  fo'  horses, 
an'  cotched  him  by  de  robes,  an'  snatched  him  right 
up  into  Hebben. 

[87] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

"  But,  my  fr'en' s  an'  hearers,  de  short  time  dat 
John  de  Revealer  wuz  in  Patty mos,  he  seen  his  bes' 
fr'en'  ole  John  Bunyam. 

"  Now  de  Revealer,  he  stopt  f er  ter  see  his  fr'en' 
John  Bunyam,  an'  dey  set  down  on  a  log  on  de 
roadside  an'  talked  erbout  dat  widder  what  lived  in 
de  Bible.  My  Bredren  an'  my  Sistren,  'specially  de 
Sistren,  I  wants  ter  pictur  ter  yo'  min's  dat  ve'y 
widder.  Her  onlies'  son  wuz  gwine  ter  be  hung, 
an'  she  begged  'urn  not  ter  kill  'im;  but  dey  pay 
no  'tention  ter  her,  so  she  runned  way  ober  ter  de 
king,  an'  she  runned  day  an'  night  twell  she  got 
dar. 

"  An'  when  she  got  dar,  she  tole  'im  all  'bout  her 
son,  an'  he  give  her  er  stone  wid  his  name  wrote  on 
it.  Den  she  thanked  de  King  an'  hugged  an'  kist 
his  feets. 

"  An'  she  runned  all  de  way  back,  an'  she  got 
ter  de  gallus  an'  seen  her  son,  jes'  two  minits  befo' 
de  time  fer  him  ter  die. 

"  An'  she  say,  '  Jes'  le'  me  kiss  my  son  an'  shuck 
his  han's  onct  befo'  he  dies.' 

"  An'  she  wouldn'  show  de  stone  ter  any  uv  'um, 
fer  she  know'd  dey  would  take  it  f 'um  her. 

"  An'  she  got  up  on  de  gallus  wid  her  son  an' 
she  give  him  de  stone  wid  de  King's  name  writ  on 
[88] 


ER  WHITE  HORSE  TURNT  LOOSE" 


it.  An'  he  holded  up  de  stone,  an'  say,  6 1'se 
saved !    I'se  saved ! ' 

"  Now,  my  Bredren,  has  any  uv  you  got  dat 
stone  in  yo'  hearts,  wid  de  King's  name  writ  on  it? 
Ef  you  ain',  you'd  better  put  it  dar  at  onct. 

"  Oh,  Almighty  Gawd !  We  ast  dee  ef  it  is  dy 
holy  an'  ergranted  will  ter  give  us  pure  hearts  fur 
Jesus'  sake,  an'  lead  us  all  back  ter  Jesus  ef  it  is 
dy  holy  an'  ergranted  will.  An'  keep  us  all  well 
ter  do  dy  work  ef  it  is  dy  holy  an'  ergranted 
will." 

(Loud  groans  and  "  Amens  "  came  in  volumes 
from  the  aged  Brethren  in  the  left-hand  corner, 
and  tremulous  wails  from  the  Sisters,  and  continued 
rocking  and  swaying  of  their  bodies. ) 

Brother  Driver  seemed  to  realize  the  deep  im- 
pression which  his  words  had  made ;  he  mopped  his 
brow,  cleared  his  throat,  and  renewed  his  efforts. 

"  O,  my  Bredren,  I  is  glad  ter  see  dat  you  all  is 
wakin'  up,  fur  you  didn'  seem  ter  hab  no  repre- 
hension uv  de  trouble  uv  sin. 

"  Hit  is  time  fur  ter  wake  ter  de  fac's  'fo'  hit 
gits  too  late. 

"  Now,  my  Bredren,  dar  is  th'ee  steps  leadin'  up 
ter  Hebben:  Faif,  Hope,  and  Cha'ity. 

"  Faif  goes  wid  you  thoo  dis  life,  an'  stops 

[89] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

wid  you  at  de  grave.  Hope  does  de  same,  but 
Cha'ity  goes  'long  wid  you  into  Hebben. 

"  I  tell  you  ergin,  Bredren,  dar  is  th'ee  steps  er 
leadin'  into  Hebben. 

"  Faif  say,  4  Enter  in.'  Hope  say,  4  Enter  in.' 
But  Cha'ity  takes  you  by  de  han'  an'  leads  you  in. 

44  Now,  Bredren,  you  knows  I's  'parin'  you  fer 
de  love-feas'  we  is  gwine  ter  hab  ternight." 

(At  this  point  one  of  the  brethren  came  in  with  a 
bag  of  soda  crackers  and  a  pitcher  of  water  for  the 
love-feast. ) 

44  You  all  puts  er  piece  uv  de  braid  in  yo'  moufs, 
an'  takes  er  piece  uv  braid  in  yo'  han's,  an'  den  we 
all  breaks  it  together  at  onct.  But,  my  Bredren, 
I'm  erf  eared  we  ain'  gwine  ter  hab  much  uv  er  love- 
feas'  hyar  ternight,  fer  I  kin  tell  f'um  yo'  'pear- 
ance  dat  my  sermon  ain'  teched  yo'  hearts  in  de 
right  place. 

44  But  I  is  done  my  bes\ 

44  Now,  my  Bredren,  I  wants  ter  tell  you  one  mo' 
thing,  an'  dat  is  dis:  Dar  is  th'ee  things  what  is 
necessary  fer  er  preacher  ter  have  fer  ter  preach 
de  gospel.  Knowledge  in  de  haid,  de  sperit  in  de 
heart,  an'  money  in  de  pocket. 

44  Now,  I  is  got  de  knowledge  in  de  haid,  an'  de 
sperit  in  de  heart,  but,  Bredren,  I  ain't  got  no 
[90] 


"ER  WHITE  HORSE  TURNT  LOOSE" 

money  in  de  pocket.  I  ain'  er  preachin'  fer 
money;  I  is  preachin'  kaze  hit's  my  callin',  but 
den,  Bredren,  I  is  'bleeged  ter  have  dem  th'ee  rer- 
quirements,  an'  I  only  calls  on  you  fer  ter  s'ply 
me  wid  one  uv  dem. 

"  I  will  now  call  fer  de  third  rerquirement,  an' 
I  hopes  you  will  shell  out  de  nickels  an'  de  dimes  in 
Br'er  Perry's  hat.  Br'er  Perry,  will  you  please  ter 
step  erroun'  an'  take  up  dat  rerquirement  com- 
monly called  de  collectium.  I  specified  de  nickels 
an'  de  dimes,  but  dar  will  be  no  rejection  uv  two- 
bits,  nurr  free-bits,  nurr  fo'-bits — ef  anybody  is  er 
mine  ter  gib  'urn." 


[91] 


Mammy  Joe  Tells  of  the 
Sinking  of  the  Merrimac 


Mammy  Joe  Tells  of  the 
Sinking  of  the  Merrimac 

A COUNTRY  village  in  the  South  is  espe- 
cially peaceful  and  quiet,  except  perhaps 
on  Saturdays  and  court  days,  when  the 
negroes  come  to  town  from  miles  around  to  buy 
and  sell  and  to  attend  court.  The  picture  of 
Main  Street,  Greensboro,  Alabama,  on  those  days 
is  a  sight  for  the  unbelievers ;  one  could  hardly 
imagine  that  so  many  mules,  wagons,  ox-carts,  peo- 
ple, watermelons,  and  watermelon  rinds  could  be 
gotten  into  so  small  a  space.  The  road,  the  side- 
walks, the  side  streets,  and  the  stores  are  literally 
jammed. 

On  one  occasion  a  crowd  was  assembled  the  like 
of  which  was  never  equalled  in  our  quiet  little  city. 
It  was  the  5th  of  June,  1898 ;  the  odor  of  roses  and 
honeysuckle  hung  heavily  upon  the  warm  summer 
air;  the  peaceful  stillness  was  only  broken  by  the 
carolling  of  mocking-birds  among  the  shade  trees 
and  shrubbery.  Mammy  Joe  was  on  one  of  her 
occasional  visits  to  "  Miss  Ma'y." 

Her  arrival  from  the  old  home  was  always  a 
great  event,  and  no  queen  ever  received  a  warmer 
[95] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

welcome  than  was  accorded  our  faithful  old  nurse 
whenever  she  came.  She  had  heard  that  "  Miss 
Marfy,"  Miss  Mary's  sister,  had  arrived  from 
"  Noo  York,"  so  the  ox-cart  was  hitched  up  and 
Isum  and  Jake  had  forthwith  brought  her  to  town. 

"  Lawd,  honey,"  she  exclaimed,  as  we  helped  her 
into  the  house ;  "  you  might  er  knowed  you  is  one 
uv  my  fav'rites  or  you  wouldn'  see  me  takin'  dis 
long  ride  ter  town  in  dat  ole  rickety  ox-cart.  Bless 
de  Lawd !  how  glad  I  is  ter  see  you  all  ergin !  Hit's 
good  fer  de  sore  eyes!  But,  chile,  you  ain'  lookin' 
ve'y  well ;  I  f eered  you  don'  git  de  right  things  ter 
eat  in  Noo  York.  I  hyar  tell  dey  don'  even  know 
what  beat  biskits  is  up  dar;  an'  I  know  dey  don', 
kase  I  never  seed  none  when  me  an'  Mistis  (yo' 
Gran'mar),  usen  ter  go  dar  befo'  de  war;  nuffin' 
'tall  but  des  light-braid  an'  rolls — not  even  er  sign 
uv  aig-braid;  an'  ef  peoples  don'  hab  good  braid, 
dey  cfon'  hab  nuffin'  good. 

"  But,  chillun,"  she  continued,  after  making  her 
expressions  of  happiness  to  each  and  all  of  us, 
"  has  you  all  hyard  de  news  uptown?  " 

No  news  had  been  heard  by  the  family  up  to  that 
time ;  it  was  then  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

"  Why,  chillun !  "  she  exclaimed  in  astonishment 
[96] 


SINKING  OF  THE  MERRIMAC 


at  our  having  heard  nothing  unusual.  44  Why, 
chillun,  hit's  des  lak  Chris'mus  uptown ;  de 
gent'muns  is  all  stan'in'  tergedder  on  de  cor- 
ners, an'  I  hjard  'um  hoorajin'  an'  goin'  on  at  sich 
er  rate,  hit  mos'  skeered  me.  I  seed  Unc'  Billy 
comin'  'long,  an'  I  called  ter  him  an'  axed  him  what 
on  de  yearth  wuz  de  matter. 

"  4  Why,  Aunt  Joe,'  he  say,  4  ain'  you  hyard  de 
news  ?  ' 

44  4  No,  sir,'  I  say.  4  What  news  ?  I  is  des'  driv' 
up  f'um  de  country,  an'  I  ain'  hyard  er  thing 
'ceptin'  dat  my  chile  done  come  home  f'um  Noo 
York.'  Wid  dat,  I  thought  Unc'  Billy  would  bus' 
open. 

44  4  Why,  good  gracious,'  he  say.  4  Does  you  see 
dem  big  crowds  uv  people  up  yander  an'  all  dem 
nigh  de  Pos'  Off  us?  Well,  Aunt  Joe,  dat's  whar 
de  bullion-boa'd  stan's,  an'  de  news  on  dat  bullion- 
boa'd  done  say  how  dat  Marse  Rich  Hobson  is  done 
sunk  de  ship  f'um  under  his  feets,  an'  done  walked 
on  de  water  lak  'Postle  Peter.  Yassum,  dat's  de 
fac',  Aunt  Joe.'  An'  chillun,  Unc'  Billy  say  dat 
Marse  Rich  walked  on  de  water  right  over  dem 
dinermite  shells,  right  thoo'  de  bullits  what  was 
shootin'  at  him  on  de  right  side  an'  on  de  lef  side 
an'  behine  him  an'  in  front  uv  him,  an'  dat  Marse 
[97] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Rich  didn'  pay  no  mo'  'tention  ter  'urn  den  ef  dey 
was  flies  an'  muskeeters.  He  des  breshed  dem  can- 
non-balls off  wid  his  han's  an'  walked  right  up  ter 
de  mouf  uv  dat  gre't  Spannium,  an'  ram  his  fis' 
down  dat  Spannium's  th'oat  an'  done  choke  him  ter 
def .  Yassum,  dat  he  did !  Unc'  Billy  say,  6  Aunt 
Joe,  dat's  what  I  makes  out  f'um  what  I  hyars  'urn 
say,  an'  I'se  gwine  des  as  fas'  as  I  kin  ter  tell  Miss 
Sally.  I  ain'  s'prised  er  bit  at  Marse  Rich,'  he  say, 
6  f er  I  knowed  he  was  de  braves'  solger  in  de  war,' 
he  say,  4  an'  boun'  ter  kill  dat  Spannium  dey  been 
tryin'  ter  choke  up.  All  dat  s'prises  me,'  he  say, 
*  is  his  workin'  uv  dat  merricle.  I  done  watched 
dat  chile,'  he  say,  4  when  he  wa'n'  no  higher  dan  my 
knee,  an'  I  always  tuck  noticement  dat  whenever  de 
boys  played  fox-an'-houn's  in  de  grove,  Marse 
Rich  wuz  always  de  fox.  An'  he  heads  'um  ter  dis 
day,  an'  dey  ain'  never  is  gwine  ketch  him  nurr. 
But  Aunt  Joe,'  he  say,  6  who'd  s'posed  dat  dat  chile 
was  gwine  work  er  merricle  an'  walk  on  de  water  lak 
'Postle  Peter,  sinkin'  de  ship  f'um  under  his  own 
feets  an'  not  git  kilt?  I  jes  looks  fer  Marse  Rich 
ter  be  translated,  an'  'spects  de  nex'  thing  we  hyar, 
de  charrot  will  have  tuck  him  up  inter  hebben.'  " 

But  the  news  had  reached  "  Miss  Sally  "  long 
before  Uncle  Billy  did.    Telegrams  were  flying  all 
[98] 


SINKING  OF  THE  MERRIMAC 

over  the  town  before  we  had  time  to  recover  from 
the  remarkable  account  made  out  from  the  "  bul- 
lion-boa'd  "  by  Uncle  Billy,  as  related  by  Mammy 
Joe. 

It  did  look  like  Christmas  uptown  sure  enough, 
for  the  little  city  took  on  a  holiday  appearance. 
Among  the  rose  vines  over  "  Rose-Mary  "  cottage 
the  first  flags  were  hung.  What  did  it  matter  that 
they  bore  the  Southern  cross  of  the  Confederacy? 
They  were  flags — they  meant  life,  country,  hero- 
ism, and  honor,  and  they  were  unfurled,  for  they 
were  all  that  we  had,  and  we  were  fain  to  honor  the 
hero  of  our  home.  When  the  evening  train  came  in 
from  Selma,  however,  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  which 
had  been  telegraphed  for,  were  unfurled  by  the  side 
of  the  mementoes  of  the  Lost  Cause.  The  flag  of 
the  nation  took  on  a  new  meaning,  and  for  the  first 
time  since  the  war,  the  "  Stars  and  Stripes  99  floated 
peacefully  over  many  proud  mansions  and  devas- 
tated Southern  homes. 


[99] 


Mammy  Tilly's  Visit  to 
the  City 


4S€   3S» 

Mammy  Tilly's  Visit  to 
the  City 

XASSUM,  all  my  white  folks  is  moved 
j(  erway — gone  ter  town  ter  be  near  de 
A  schools,  so  dey  say — no  money  fer  ter 
hab  gub'nors  an5  teachers  lak  dey  usen  ter  hab. 
Eve'ything  so  changed,  you  know. 

"  Yassum,  de  chillun  tries  ter  he'p  me  all  dey 
kin,  an'  dey  pays  my  rent  fer  me  now,  an'  dey 
wanted  me  ter  go  live  in  town,  but  I  des  can'  leave 
de  ole  place.  Seem  lak  hit  suits  me  bes',  an'  den  de 
good  book  say  dat  6  man  mus'  yearn  his  braid  by 
de  swift  uv  his  eye-brows.'  I  des  stays  hyar  an' 
makes  my  'tater  patch  an'  gits  erlong  de  bes'  I  kin 
wid  what  dey  does  fer  me. 

"  Sometimes  I  goes  ter  Greensboro,  ter  see  Miss 
Ma'y,  but  I  never  is  gwine  ter  de  city  uv  Bum- 
mingham  ergin  es  long  es  I  live.  Hit's  too  unruly 
er  place.  Hit's  wus'  dan  Xoo  York,  honey.  I 
never  did  see  cyars  runnin'  'long  widout  horses 
hitched  ter  'um,  an'  spittin'  fire  when  me  an'  Mistis 
usen  ter  go  ter  Noo  York,  an'  I  never  seed  none  in 
Washin'ton  City  nurr ;  but  Bummingliam,  chile,  is 
in  de  han's  uv  de  debble,  sho'  es  you's  born.  I  hope 
[103] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Miss  Sadie  will  come  back  home  some  day  an'  leave 
dat  place.  Dey  tells  me  dat  Noo  York  done  got  de 
same  way  sence  de  war,  but  I  ain'  been  dar,  an'  so  I 
don'  know,  but  de  whole  worl'  seem  upside  down 
sence  de  war.    Yassum,  dat  it  do. 

"  Yassum,  dey  wanted  ter  take  ole  Mammy  Tilly 
erlong,  but  I  couldn'  leave  de  ole  place  nohow.  I 
went  up  dar  f  er  er  time  on  er  visit,  but  de  'citement 
uv  de  city  wuz  too  much  fer  my  rheumatiz.  Sech 
a  time  es  we  had !  Chile,  I  lak  ter  have  died  bef  o' 
I  got  back  home. 

"  Miss  Sadie  got  er  ve'y  nice  house  in  Bumming- 
ham,  but  it  ain'  lak  de  mansion  over  dar  in  de  grove 
where  she  usen  ter  live  lak  er  queen.  Hit's  too 
close  ter  de  neighbors,  heap  wors'  dan  Greensboro. 
/  lak  plenty  uv  room,  honey;  I'se  been  usen  ter  it 
all  my  life,  an'  it  sutny  did  make  me  mad  ter  see  de 
servants  in  de  nex'  house  lookin'  right  square  in  our 
back  do',  an'  watchin'  eve'ything  what  we  doin'  in 
our  house.  Den  ergin,  you  kin  hyar  eve'y  word 
dey  say,  an9  smell  everything  dey  cook,  an9  see 
eve'ything  goin9  on.  No'm,  I  don'  lak  no  city. 
Dar  is  too  many  myster'us  things  in  er  city,  Miss 
Marfy.  Cyars  runnin'  'long,  doubten  horses 
hitched  ter  'urn  an'  spittin'  fire  f'um  top  ter  bot- 
tom, an'  notes  an'  letters  on  telefomes  fly  in'  roun' 
[104] 


"An    makes  my    later  patch 


MAMMY  TILLY'S  VISIT  TO  THE  CITY 

doubt  en  no  nigger  ter  carry  'um  ter  de  ladies,  an' 
de  boys  comin'  home  at  night  an'  openin'  de  front 
do'  wid  er  key  no  bigger  dan  de  blade  uv  er  pen- 
knife, an'  nobody  hyar  'um.  Dem  keys  is  mys- 
ter'ous,  chile,  an'  sometimes  dey  makes  mischief  an' 
trouble.  One  night,  Marse  Tommie,  Miss  Sadie's 
younges'  boy,  who  wuz  home  Turn  school,  went  out 
ter  er  dance,  or  somethin',  an'  when  he  come  home 
he  fotch  er  young  gent'mun  fr'en'  wid  him,  unbe- 
knownst ter  us  all.  Well,  dey  come  in  wid  dat  key, 
an'  nobody  hyard  'um.  Marse  Tommie,  he  went 
right  ter  baid,  but  de  young  gent'mun  what  wuz 
wid  him,  say  he  gwine  hab  er  smoke  fus',  an'  so  he 
light  de  cigar  an'  res'  his  feets  on  de  mantlepiece, 
leans  back  in  er  big  tall  cheer  an'  starts  ter  read  de 
paper.  Well,  Miss  Sadie,  she  wake  up  an'  disre- 
membered  dat  she  done  fergit  ter  lock  de  back  hall 
do',  so  'stead  uv  callin'  me,  what  wuz  sleepin'  in 
de  nus'ry,  she  waked  up  Miss  Helen  an'  axed  her 
ter  go  downstairs  an'  lock  de  hall  do'.  Well, 
Miss  Helen,  she  tuck  de  candle  an'  started  down. 
When  she  gits  ter  de  bottom  uv  de  steps,  she  sees 
a  bright  light  in  Marse  Tommie's  room,  an'  she 
peeps  in,  an'  bless  Gawd !  when  she  seed  er  strange 
young  man  settin'  in  dar  an'  de  lights  all  up,  she 
runs  back  upstairs,  skeered  mos'  ter  def,  an'  to? 
[105] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

her  Ma  dat  de  whole  house  was  filled  up  wid 
bu'glars.  Den  Miss  Sadie  called  me  ter  wake  up, 
an'  we  locked  an'  barred  de  room  do',  an'  den  we 
raise  de  winder  an'  call  ter  de  nex'  do'  neighbor. 
Hit  wuz  de  fus'  time  I  ever  feel  reconcile  ter  de 
closeness  uv  de  neighbors.  Miss  Williams  she  riz 
up  her  winder  an'  want  ter  know  what  de  matter. 
4  Our  whole  house  is  full  uv  bu'glers,'  Miss  Sadie 
tell  her,  an'  she  ax  her  ter  please  sen'  Mr.  Williams 
over  fer  ter  he'p  us.  But  Miss  Williams  say  dat  she 
couldn' ;  dat  she  feared  Mr.  Williams  would  git 
kilt — dat  she  wouldn'  wake  him  up  fer  de  worl'. 
Well,  honey,  dar  we  wuz !  An'  ef  it  hadn'  been  fer 
de  telefome,  Gawd  knows  what  would  er  'come  uv 
us. 

"  Miss  Williams  she  say  she  had  er  telefome,  so 
she  call  up  de  perlice  departmen',  an'  de  nex'  minit 
mos'  er  hunderd  perlicemens  hit  seem  lak  come  rid- 
in'  up  wid  drawed  pistils  in  dey  han's.  Dey  come 
in  de  back  hall  do'  lak  Miss  Williams  tole  'um,  an' 
drawed  up  in  line  befo'  Marse  Tommie's  do'.  Well, 
de  young  gent'mun,  when  he  hyard  de  fuss  an'  seed 
all  dem  revolvers  p'inted  at  him,  he  jumped  up  an' 
dashed  outen  de  winder,  breakin'  it  all  ter  pieces, 
wid  all  de  perlicemens  right  behine  him.  Dat  woke 
Marse  Tommie  up ;  an'  when  he  seed  de  buttons  an' 

[106] 


MAMMY  TILLY'S  VISIT  TO  THE  CITY 

de  guns,  he  run  ter  de  winder  an'  hollered  6  Fire  ' 
des  as  loud  as  he  c'd  holler.  De  perlicemens  what 
wuz  outside,  turnt  on  de  fire-'larm,  an'  'fo'  dey  git 
thoo'  chasin'  de  young  gent'mun  back  in  de  house, 
whar  dey  kotch  'im  an'  tie  his  han's,  de  whole  fire 
bergade  done  turnt  out,  an'  de  nex'  thing  we 
knowed,  de  water  was  po'in'  down  de  chimley  an' 
thoo  de  winders,  an'  sich  er  time  you  never  see  sence 
you  wuz  born.  Ef  Miss  Sadie  hadn'  reco'nize 
Marse  Tommie  holl'in'  an'  fightin'  ter  be  turnt 
loose,  dem  perlicemens  w'd  er  han'cuff'  an'  ca'ied 
him  off  ter  de  jail.  Es  it  wuz,  dey  done  him  bad 
ernough.  An'  when  we  f  oun'  out  dat  dey  wan'  no 
bu'glers,  'cep'in'  des  Marse  Tom  an'  his  fr'en',  we 
sutny  wuz  mystyfied.  An'  hit  wuz  all  de  fault  uv 
dem  night-keys,  honey.  Dey  ain'  half  so  'spect- 
able  as  hit  wuz  when  ole  Marster  er  de  boys  w'd 
come  home  wid  de  clattin'  uv  horse-hoofs  thoo'  de 
grove  an'  de  big  soundin'  step  on  de  gall'ry  an' 
Unc'  Billy  an'  Unc'  Sy  ter  unsaddle  de  horses,  an' 
Jerrymiah  dar  fer  ter  put  'um  ter  bed.  Dem  keys 
is  lots  uv  trouble.  I  wuz  so  shuck  up  over  de  'cite- 
ment  I  mos'  died,  an'  de  nex'  time  I  des  come  home ! 
Yassum,  dat  I  did. 

"  Dat  wuz  de  time  when  Marse  Tommie  had 
ernurr  fr'en'  wid  him.    You  see,  Marse  Tommie's 

[107] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

room  wuz  on  de  parlor  flo',  an'  one  day  ole  Miss 
Ma'y  Jane  Wilkins,  f'um  up  de  country  near 
Cracker-Nake,  come  ter  stay  all  night.  Well,  she 
so  ole  dat  Miss  Sadie  tole  Marse  Tommie  fer  ter 
sleep  upstairs  in  de  comp'ny  room  an'  let  Miss 
Ma'y  Jane  sleep  down  in  his  room  ter  keep  her  f  'urn 
goin'  up  de  long  steps.  Well,  chile,  I  fixed  de 
room  ready  fer  de  exchange,  an'  Marse  Tommie  he 
went  ter  baid  on  time,  but  de  young  gent'mun  he 
went  callin'.  Miss  Sadie  say  she  gwine  set  up  an' 
wait  fer  'im  an'  sen'  'im  upstairs,  es  he  didn'  know 
erbout  comp'ny  bein'  in  Marse  Tom's  room.  But 
dat  key,  chile,  wuz  so  slick,  he  come  in  widout  Miss 
Sadie  hyarin'  'im,  an'  he  opens  de  do'  an'  started 
ter  baid. 

"  He  couldn'  fine  er  match  nowhar,  so  he  starts 
ter  ondress  in  de  dark,  an'  de  fus'  thing  he  done 
wuz  ter  kick  one  uv  his  boots  off,  honey,  an'  sling 
it  at  de  baid,  thinkin'  Marse  Tom  in  dar.  Ole  Miss 
Wilkins  she  call  out,  6  Who  dat  in  hyar?'  De 
young  gent'mun  didn'  say  nuffin',  thinkin'  hit  was 
Marse  Tom  tryin'  ter  play  a  joke  on  'im,  makin' 
b'lieve  he  was  a  'ooman.  4  Who  dat  in  hyar?  '  she 
call  out  ergin.  De  young  gent'mun  he  make  er 
fuss  wid  his  mouf,  jes'  so- — €  coop,  coop,  coop.' 
'  Who  dat,  I  say  ?  '  6  M-m-m-m-m,'  say  he,  an'  den 

[108] 


MAMMY  TILLY'S  VISIT  TO  THE  CITY 

he  sail  de  yuther  boot  erlong  over  de  baid.  Well, 
chile,  Miss  Ma'y  Jane  was  mos'  skeered  ter  def  by 
dat  time,  an'  de  way  she  hollered  an'  de  yell  she  done 
give  would  er  raised  de  daid !  Hit  sutny  did  raise 
Marse  Tommie's  fr'en'.  He  jumped  outen  dat 
room  in  his  night  clo'es,  an'  met  Miss  Sadie  an'  de 
young  ladies,  an'  Marse  Tommie  an'  we-all  comin' 
down  de  stairs  wid  lamps  an'  sticks  ter  see  what  de 
matter  wid  po'  ole  Miss  Ma'y  Jane  Wilkins.  Dat 
wuz  ernuff  fer  me.  I  tole  Miss  Sadie  I  des'  couldn' 
stan'  de  'citement  uv  town  no  ways,  an'  so  I  come 
'long  home.  Marse  Tommie  he  fotched  me  all  de 
way  to  de  station,  an'  when  he  lef  me,  he  say, 
'Mammy  Tilly,  I'll  tho'  'way  dat  latch-key  ef 
you'll  des  go  back  wid  me  ter  town.'  But  I  couldn' 
stan'  de  'citement,  so  I  des  lives  on  de  ole  place  in 
hopes  dat  de  summons  will  come  some  day  an'  ca'y 
me  home  ter  ole  Mistis  what's  waitin'  fer  me  in  de 
kingdom." 


[109] 


Aunt  Roxy-Ann   an'  de 
Apple- Tree 


Aunt   Roxy-Ann   an'  de 
Apple- Tree 

DE  apple-tree,  honey,  is  er  merikle  uv 
merikles.  Hit's  er  tree  you  better  not 
fool  wid.  Hit's  been  er  gittin'  people  in 
trouble  eber  sence  Adam  steal  dat  fus'  fruit  fer 
Eve.  One  day  at  chu'ch,  when  de  stracted  meetin' 
wuz  gwine  on,  I  axed  Br'er  Proffit  Christian  whut 
wuz  de  truble  'bout  dem  apples,  anyway. 

I  axed  him  what  wuz  de  reason  de  Lawd  didn' 
wan'  Eve  ter  eat  'um.  An'  Br'er  Proffit  he  say  de 
reason  dat  de  Lawd  didn'  wan'  Eve  fer  ter  eat  'um 
wuz  kaze  He  wanted  'um  fer  His  se'f,  he  say,  an'  ef 
he  didn'  want  'um  fer  His  se'f  He  wanted  'um  for 
somebody  else,  he  say.  But  himesoever  hit  wuz,  he 
say,  de  apple-tree  is  er  tree  ter  be  'voided.  In  dem 
days  I  wuz  des  grow'd  up,  an'  honey,  I  wuz  mighty 
fon'  uv  fixin'  up  wid  fine  close  an'  outdoin'  de 
yuther  gals  an'  er  carryin'  my  haid  high.  I  didn' 
hab  nuffin'  ter  do  but  nuss  Miss  Lou's  baby,  an'  Miss 
Lou  wuz  mighty  good  'bout  givin'  me  her  cas'-off 
hats  an'  things.  One  day  she  give  me  er  fine  raid 
velvet  hat,  an'  de  chillen  had  done  gib  me  some  yal- 
[113] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


ler  paper  flowers,  an'  I  fixed  it  up  fine  f  er  ter  w'ar 
ter  de  big  fun'l  on  Sunday.  You  see,  Aun'  Neu- 
phelia  J  ones  had  des  died,  an'  Miss  Lou  sed  I  might 
go  to  de  fun'l.  I  sho'  wuz  proud  dat  Sunday  morn- 
in'  when  I  git  myse'f  ready  ter  f oiler  de  persession 
to  the  grabe.  I  had  on  all  my  bes'  close,  an'  I  felt 
as  free  as  er  jay  bird  in  de  cornfiel'. 

De  fun'l  was  de  bigges'  I  ever  seed,  an'  Unc' 
Proffit  Christian  he  preached  de  summon. 

De  ve'y  nex'  day  atter  de  buryin',  Unc'  Silvester 
Jones,  de  husban'  uv  de  corpse,  corned  to  my  mam- 
my's cabin  f  er  ter  call.  Mammy  she  wuz  down  ter 
de  spring  doin'  de  Monday  washin',  an'  dar  wan' 
nobody  dar  but  me  an'  Miss  Lou's  baby  what  I 
wuz  nursin'.  Well,  chile,  berfo'  Unc'  Silvester  lef 
he  done  axed  me  ter  mar'y  him.  When  my  mammy 
cumed  in  Unc'  'Vester  said  ter  her,  "  Sis'  Malaria 
Ann,"  he  say  (yassum,  dat  wuz  my  mammy's 
name,  Malaria  Ann  Johnsing).  "  Sis'  Malaria 
Ann,"  he  say,  "  I  is  done  axed  Miss  Roxy  Ann  fer 
ter  jine  han's  wid  me  dis  day  two  weeks." 

"  Bless  Gord,"  say  mammy,  "  you  is  in  er  mighty 
big  hurry,  Br'er  'Vester.  Why,  Sis'  Neuphelia  ain' 
hardly  cole  in  de  grabe." 

"  Well,  I  knows  dat,  Sis'  Malaria,"  he  ses,  "  but 
Neuphelia  is  des  es  daid  es  she  eber  is  gwine  ter  be, 
[114] 


AUNT  ROXY-ANN 

an'  den  ergin,  de  preacher  he  sed  at  de  fun'l  dat  dis 
life  wuz  short  an'  oncertain,  an'  I  know'd  I  didn' 
hab  no  time  ter  lose.  An'  den  ergin  you  see  de 
ole  sisters  at  de  chu'ch  will  be  er  layin'  out  plans 
fer  me  ef  I  don'  lay  out  plans  fer  myse'f  an' 
git  er  haid  uv  'um,  an'  when  I  seed  Miss  Roxy 
Ann  at  de  grabe  yistidy,  lookin'  lak  er  corn  blossom 
wid  de  tassels  all  'er  silkin',  I  des  made  my  mine  up 
right  den  an'  dar  fer  ter  ax  her  ter  take  de  place  uv 
de  deceased  corpse.  Why,  Sis'  Malaria,"  he  say, 
"  Miss  Roxy  Ann  wuz  de  ve'y  light  uv  de  fun'l.  I 
don'  b'lieve  I  could  er  stood  it  if  I  hadn'  seed  her 
standin'  dar,  de  one  bright  light  in  de  darkness  uv 
my  trouble." 

Well,  honey,  mammy  and  Unc'  'Yes'  fixed  it  up, 
an'  Miss  Lou  said  she'd  give  me  some  mo'  things, 
an'  dey  got  me  all  ready  fer  de  weddin',  what  tuck 
place  de  nex'  Sunday  week.  All  de  yother  gals 
wuz  dat  env'ous  uv  me  dey  couldn'  see  straight, 
an'  I  wuz  so  happy  I  des  la'f  all  de  time.  Miss  Lou 
an'  Marse  Jack  give  us  er  cabin  all  to  wese'f,  an'  I 
seem  so  joyful  an'  full  uv  de  pleasures  uv  de  worl' 
I  'gun  ter  git  skeerd  dat  I  never  would  be  able  ter 
feel  sorrowful  ernuff  ter  git  'ligion  an'  jine  de 
chu'ch. 

So  one  day  I  made  my  mine  up  ter  ax  de  Lawd 
[115] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

ter  sen'  trouble  ter  keep  me  fum  gittin'  too  f amil- 
ious  wid  de  debbil.  You  see,  I  had  de  fines'  close 
uv  any  gal  in  de  congergation,  an'  no  wuck  ter  do 
but  nuss  de  baby  an'  cook  fer  'Ves.  I  know'd  I 
wuz  too  free  fer  er  Christian.  So  I  went  down  in 
de  bottom  uv  de  garden,  whar'  no  one  could  see  me, 
'cep'n  de  Lawd,  an'  I  git  down  on  my  knees  under 
de  big  apple-tree  an'  'gun  ter  pray.  Ef  I  des 
hadn'  gone  ter  de  apple-tree,  honey,  it  would  er 
bin  all  right,  but  hit  looked  mo'  ter  my  fancy  dan 
de  peach-tree,  an'  so  I  prayed  ter  de  Hebbenly 
Father  fer  ter  sen'  me  er  trial  uv  my  strenf. 
"  Lawd,"  I  ses,  "  I  is  er  miser'ble  sinner,  an'  too 
unfit  fer  Your  kin'ness  ter  me.  I  is  too  happy, 
Lawd,"  I  ses,  "  an'  I  wants  You  to  please,  Sir,  sen' 
me  er  trial  ter  fetch  me  th'o.  Sen'  me  trouble 
Lawd,"  I  cried,  "  sen'  me  trouble !  Tromp  on  me, 
beat  me  all  ter  pieces,  an'  mash  me  on  de  groun', 
Lawd,  fer  I  wants  ter  prove  my  love  ter  Dee." 
Well,  honey,  de  Lawd  did  hyar  me  fum  under  dat 
apple-tree,  an'  He  sont  me  all  de  trouble  I  axed 
fer,  an'  He  tromp  on  me,  too. 

But,  chile,  I  didn't  know  dat  He  wuz  gwine  ter 
cum  down  on  me  wid  bofe  feets.    No'm,  I  didn' 
spec'  dat.    But  He  did,  yas,  honey,  dat  He  did. 
You  see,  I  wuz  under  de  tree  uv  f erbidden  fruit,  an' 
[116] 


AUNT  ROXY-ANN 

He  made  has'  fer  ter  punish  me  fer  de  joyments 
uv  life. 

Hit  wan'  no  time  f urn  de  day  I  prayed  under  dat 
apple-tree  dat  'Vester  'gun  ter  take  up  wid  Penny 
Wilson  an'  my  li'l  gal  wan'  no  mo  dan  two  year  ole 
when  he  done  lef  me  fer  to  lib  wid  'er.  Den  my 
mammy  died,  an'  all  I  had  lef  wuz  my  li'l  gal.  I 
named  her  Neuphelia  Malaria  Roxy-Ann,  fer  'Ves- 
ter's  fus'  wife,  an'  my  mammy  an'  myse'f.  But  she 
died,  too,  an'  den  I  know'd  dat  dat  apple-tree  wuz 
de  wrong  tree  fer  ter  pray  under.  I  done  cut  dat 
tree  down,  honey — I  cut  it  in  de  night,  so  nobody 
would  know  who  done  it,  an'  when  I  prays  I  'voids 
de  garden  all  I  kin,  an'  don'  go  under  no  tree  wid 
fruit  on  it.  I  des  goes  in  de  bushes  an'  de  grass. 
Yassum,  de  Lawd  sho'  did  come  down  on  me  hard, 
an'  wid  bofe  feets,  lak  I  say. 

But  it  f  otched  me  ter  de  th'one  uv  grace. 

I  don'  wear  no  mo'  raid  velvet  hats  wid  yaller 
paper  flowers,  an'  I  ain't  gwine  ter  be  de  bride  uv 
no  mo'  grooms  uv  er  corpse. 


[117] 


How  Sis'  Mandy  (an'  Her 
Dog  Pinchey)  Got  'ligion 


How  Sis'  Mandy  (an'  Her 
Dog  Pinchey)  Got  'ligion 

LAW,  yas,  chile,  to  be  sho'  I  does  b'lieve 
dat  dogs  is  got  souls,  to  be  sho'  I  does. 
I  never  had  no  usen  fer  dogs  twell  I 
owned  old  Pinchey,  an'  dat  dog,  honey,  is  er  pus- 
son,  ef  sense  counts  fer  anything  wid  de  Lawd. 
An'  den  ergin,  dat  dog  is  er  heap  better  dan  some 
pussons  I  knows,  I  kin  tell  you. 

De  way  I  cum  ter  own  Pinchey  wuz  dis : 
You  see  de  times  is  mighty  hard  down  hyar  in 
Alabama,  whar  de  cotton  don'  fetch  but  five  cents 
er  poun',  an'  I  is  had  er  mighty  hard  time  er  gittin' 
erlong.  Sometimes  I  kin  pay  de  rent,  an'  some- 
times I  can't,  an'  sometimes  I  has  braid  in  de  ashes, 
an'  sometimes  I  ain't. 

Well,  one  day  I  was  des  gittin'  over  er  spell  uv 
de  chills,  an'  er  feelin'  putty  miserable  an'  no- 
'count,  an'  I  riz  outer  de  baid  an'  cum  to  de  do'  an' 
set  down  on  de  steps,  an'  'gun  ter  steddy  'bout  how 
I  gwine  git  som'n  ter  eat,  kaze  it  ain'  like  it  usen  to 
be  befo'  de  wah.  Ike  he  wuz  erway  pickin'  cotton 
on  de  yuther  side  uv  de  creek,  an'  I  wuz  all  erlone 
by  myse'f ,  an'  nobody  fer  ter  he'p  me. 

[121] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

I  set  dar  sted'n  'bout  what  to  do,  an'  de  f  us'  thing 
I  know  I  seed  dat  ve'y  dog  you  is  lookin'  at  stan'in' 
right  befo'  me,  lookin'  at  me.  He  looked  at  me, 
an'  I  looked  at  him,  an'  pres'n'ly  I  say  to  'im: 
"  What  you  want  hyar,  dog,  I  ain'  got  nuffin  fur 
you;  you  better  go  long  to  dem  what  you  ber- 
longs  ter."  Wid  dat  he  'gun  ter  wag  his  li'l  ole 
bob  tail  an'  walk  up  closer  ter  me,  an'  I  seed 
he  wuz  raw  bonied  an'  hongry  lookin'  lak  he  didn' 
b'long  ter  nobody.  "  Whar  you  cum  fum,  dog?  " 
I  say  ergin,  des  ter  be  er  talkin',  an',  honey,  ef  dat 
dog  didn'  turn  roun'  an'  look  to'ds  de  crossroads, 
I  ain't  er  settin'  hyar. 

I  know'd  right  den  dat  he  done  been  turnt  erway 
by  de  po'  niggers  at  de  settlemint.  Well,  I  ses  out 
loud  ergin  as  I  set  dar,  "  Well,  dog,"  I  ses, 
"  you  an'  me  is  in  de  same  fix.  You  is  done  been 
driv  off  an'  Ike,  my  ole  man,  he's  done  gone  off  an' 
lef  me,  pertendin'  ter  be  pickin'  cotton  over  de 
creek.  I  knows  who  he's  wid  over  dar,  I  ses — an' 
he  knows  better  dan  ter  cum  back  hyar  wid  his 
backslidin'  ways.  I  wan'  no  Christian,  honey,  an' 
de  chu'ch  members  didn't  come  ter  look  after  me, 
kaze  I  wuz  er  dancer,  an'  hadn't  come  th'o."  Well, 
chile,  when  I  sed  dat,  dat  dog  looked  up  de  road 
de  ve'y  way  dat  Ike  would  er  cum,  an'  he  wag  his 
[  122  ] 


HOW  SIS'  MANDY  GOT  'LIGION 


li'l  stump  tail  ergin  an'  git  closer  ter  me  dan 
ever. 

Somehow  I  couldn't  he'p  talkin'  ter  dat  dog,  he 
look  so  knowin',  an'  he  look  so  lonesome,  des  lak  I 
wuz,  an'  I  know'd  he  wuz  bofe  hongry  an'  not  er 
bite  did  I  have  in  de  house  fer  ter  eat.  Hit  'gun 
ter  git  dark,  an'  so  I  went  ter  de  spring  an'  fetched 
er  bucket  er  fresh  water,  an'  I  picked  up  er  few 
sticks  fer  ter  make  up  er  blaze  fer  ter  see  by. 
When  I  raked  up  de  ashes  an'  blowed  up  de  coles, 
I  turned  roun'  an'  I  ses  to  de  ole  dog  what  wuz  still 
watchin'  uv  me :  "  Ef  you  could  go  an'  ketch  er 
rabbit,"  I  ses,  "  or  er  squir'l,  or  sum'n,"  I  ses, 
"  you  an'  me  mout  hab  er  supper,"  I  ses.  Chile, 
dat  dog  what  you  is  lookin'  at  right  now,  what  I 
calls  Pinchey,  he  turns  right  erroun'  an'  walked 
out  uv  my  do',  lak  er  pusson,  an'  when  he  cum  back 
he  had  er  rabbit  in  his  mouf,  what  he  had  done 
kotch.  Yassum !  I  so  'stounded  I  fell  right  down 
flat  on  de  hV.  But  hit  wan'  many  minnits  'fo'  I 
wuz  eatin'  dat  rabbit,  an'  Pinchey  wuz  eatin'  uv  de 
bones.  Fum  dat  day  me  an'  Pinchey  is  lived  to- 
ge'r,  an'  dat  dog  knows  ev'y  word  I  ses  ter  'im. 
I  calls  'im  Pinchey,  kaze  we  wuz  bofe  in  sech  er 
pinch  when  he  cum  ter  me.  No'm!  Ike  never  did 
cum  back,  an'  ef  it  hadn't  been  fer  ole  Pinchey, 
[  123  ] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


I'd  er  starve'  ter  def  'fo'  now.  Dat  dog  goes 
huntin'  ev'y  day  uv  his  life.  When  possum  sea- 
son come  ole  Pinchey  fetches  possums  in  reg'lar, 
an'  when  rabbit  season  come  he  fetches  in  de  rabbits 
an'  de  squir'ls  an'  de  birds,  an'  sometimes  dat  dog 
fetches  er  chicken  an'  er  piece  uv  meat  somebody 
done  give  'im  roun'  de  settlemint  somewhar.  One 
day  Br'er  Rastus,  de  preacher,  cum  erlong,  an* 
he  ax  me  ef  I  wan'  gwine  jine  de  chu'ch;  dat  de 
camp  meetin'  wuz  gwine  on  at  de  Flatwoods 
Chu'ch,  an'  he  wuz  hopin'  I  would  come  roun'  an' 
perfess.  Dat  set  me  ter  stedin'  'bout  my  sins,  an' 
erbout  jedgmint  day  some  folks  sed  wuz  not  fur 
off,  an'  so  I  'gun  ter  seek.  I  tried  ter  pray,  an'  I 
couldn't.  I  went  down  in  de  woods  an'  I  called  on 
de  Lawd,  an'  He  wouldn'  hyar  me. 

One  day  I  sey  ter  Pinch — yas,  chile,  I  talk  ter 
Pinch  all  de  time,  des  de  same  as  ef  he  wuz  Ike — 
"  Pinch,"  I  say,  "  ef  I  des  could  git  'ligion,  an' 
cum  th'o,  I  wouldn'  be  skeered  uv  de  debble  no 
mo'."  Pinch  looked  at  me,  but  he  didn'  say  nuffin', 
an'  de  nex'  day  dat  dog  never  come  back  f  um  de 
woods.  Fo'  days  went  by  an'  Pinchey  never  come ; 
all  dat  time  I  wuz  still  er  seekin',  too,  dough  I 
didn't  know  it.  On  de  f ourf  day,  I  recollec'  I  wuz 
fixin'  fer  ter  make  some  ley-homly.  I  had  done 
[124] 


"1  stir  er way }  mi  1  stir  erway,  all  de  time  stediri  'bout  my  sins' 


HOW  SIS'  MANDY  GOT  'LIGION 

put  de  pot  on  ter  bile  wid  de  corn  an'  ashes,  an'  wuz 
er  stan'in'  by  it  wid  my  long  fire  stick,  stirrin'  it 
up.  I  stir  erway,  an'  I  stir  erway  all  de  time 
stedin'  'bout  my  sins,  an'  'bout  de  way  Ike  done 
treat  me,  an'  bymeby,  while  I  wuz  stan'in'  dar, 
Pinchey  cum  in  fro'  de  doJ  an'  laid  down  on  de  ha'f 
an'  watched  me.  Presen'ly  all  uv  er  suddent,  I 
gun  ter  feel  de  sperit  uv  peace  move  in  my  heart, 
an'  I  hyard  som'n  speakin'  ter  me  fro'  de  chimly. 
Hit  sey,  "  Sis'  Mandy,  don'  grieve  no  mo',  rerpent 
fum  yo'  sins  an'  come  th'o."  Den  I  'gun  ter  feel 
happy,  an'  de  nex'  minnit  I  feel  myse'f  bendin'  dis 
way  an'  dat  way  wid  'motion.  Den  I  'gun  ter 
shout,  chile,  twell  de  ve'y  flo'  seem  ter  be  er  shoutin' 
wid  me.  All  dat  time  Pinchey  set  dar  lookin'  at 
me  an'  whinin',  but  bymeby?  dat  dog  couldn't  re- 
sis'  de  sperit  what  wuz  on  us,  an'  'fo'  de  Lawd  ef 
he  didn'  git  up  off  de  ha'f  an'  'gin  ter  shout  right 
wid  me.  De  mo'  I  shout,  de  mo'  he  shout,  twell  we 
bofe  git  wo'  out  fer  de  want  uv  strenf  ter  shout 
wid.  Dat  night,  honey,  I  went  ter  meetin'  fer  de 
fus'  time  since  Ike  lef '  me.  I  went  right  up  ter  de 
moaners'  bench,  me  an'  Pinchey,  an'  when  Br'er 
Rastus,  de  preacher,  corned  down  fum  de  flat-form 
fer  ter  hyar  my  spe'ance,  I  tole  'im  'bout  Pinchey, 
an'  how  me  an'  Pinchey  done  bofe  come  th'o  tog'er. 
[125] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

No,  chile,  I  ain'  no  Mef'dis,  I  is  er  Baptis'  ter  my 
skin,  an'  when  Br'er  Rastus  'mersed  me  in  de  creek, 
I  ses  ter  5im  dat  I  want  'im  ter  baptize  Pinchey 
'long  wid  me.  He  say,  "  Sis'  Mandy,"  he  say,  "  I 
kyarn'  take  de  'sponsibility  uv  baptizin'  dat  dog. 
I  ain'  doubtin'  but  dat  he  is  rightly  come  th'o,  but 
den  I  ain'  never  is  baptized  no  dogs,  an'  I  don'  lak 
ter  bergin  now." 

"  Br'er  Rastus,"  I  say,  "  ef  you  don'  baptize  my 
dog  wid  me,  you  will  hab  er  wuss  'sponsibility  rest- 
in'  on  yo'  soul  dan  I  would  lak  ter  hab  restin'  on 
mine,"  I  say. 

Well,  honey,  dat  dog  hyard  ev'y  word  I  sed,  an' 
he  know'd  des  what  ter  do,  fer  de  Sunday  dat  I 
went  in  de  creek  I  felt  som'n  pull  me  des  as  I  come 
up  fum  under  de  water,  an'  'fo'  de  Lawd  dar  wuz 
Pinchey  done  baptize  hisse'f  right  erlong  wid  me. 
Yassum,  hit's  des  lak  I  tell  you.  Dat  dog  got  sense 
lak  er  pusson,  an'  me  an'  Pinch  is  bofe  Christians, 
an'  we  bofe  'spec'  ter  live  ergin  when  we  dies. 


[J26] 


Mammy's  Receipt  for  Mak- 
ing Alabama  Velvets 


^  jr-— ■  Ja-y 

Mammy's  Receipt  for  Mak- 
ing Alabama  Velvets 

LAWD,  chile !  you  ax  me  how  ter  make 
Dat  li'l  velvet  batter  cake. 
Why,  Honey,  hit's  er  magic  art, 
What  comes  right  f'um  yo'  Mammy's  heart. 

You  takes  er  loaf  uv  braid  dat's  stale, 
An'  den  de  velvets  cannot  fail; 
You  puts  it  in  er  pau'clin  pan 
An'  covers  wid  hot  milk  at  han'. 


You  mus'  not  use  no  stuff  ter  rize, 
No  powder  what  you  puts  in  pize ; 
Des  take  two  aigs  an'  beat  'urn  well, 
An'  when  de  braid  begins  ter  swell 

You  peels  de  crus'  what's  brown  an'  hard, 
An'  adds  er  pinch  uv  nakey  lard, 
Or  butter,  what  I  mos'ly  use, 
An'  salt,  ter  give  er  tas'e,  infuse. 


Den  put  into  de  batter  dough 
A  li'l  flour,  white  es  snow ; 

[129] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Den  take  yo'  spoon  an'  beat  an'  beat 
For  dat's  what  makes  'um  good  ter  eat. 

Now,  when  de  dough  gits  sof  es  cream, 
So  smoove  an'  velvety  hit  seem, 
You  puts  it  in  er  li'l  cake 
Right  on  de  fryin'  pan  ter  bake. 

Hit  only  takes  er  minit's  time 
Ter  make  'um  crisp  an'  brown  an'  fine  ; 
An'  eve'y  mouf  what  lubs  ter  eat 
Gwine  smack  fer  joy;  dey  tas'e  so  sweet. 

Ain'  nuffin'  on  dis  yearth  so  gran' 
As  Alabama  velvets;  an' 
Jes'  you  tas'e  'um,  den  you'll  know 
Ole  Mammy  said,  she  toV  you  so. 

Now,  wid  dese  'greegints,  I  mus'  tell 
You  how  ter  work  de  magic  spell, 
Fer  ef  ter  have  de  right  success 
An'  make  'um  lak  ole  Mammy's  bes' 

You  sho'  mus'  know  de  conger  art 
What  Mammy  keeps  right  in  her  heart- 
Hit's  f 'um  de  blessed  scripter  book — 
"  She  lubs  ter  eat — she  lubs  ter  cook" 
[130] 


T^CT  — — —  J^T 

Go  ter  Sleep  on  Mammy's 
Bre's' 


Go  to  Sleep  ox  Mammy's  Bres'. 


(A  Plantation  Cradle  Song.) 


Words  and  Music  by  Martha  S  Gielctt. 

P 


Andante  espress  e  pateiico. 


*    "    *  * 

When  de  pine  trees  'gin 


sigh-in*  to  de  daylight  what's  dy    in'.  .Mummy's  ba  -  by  'gins  cry-in"  for  to 


a  tempo. 


Refrain,  pp      ,  accel     ^     a  tempo. 


rock  on  Mam-my'y  bres..    Go  to  sleep.  li"l    ba  -  by.  Go    to  sleep,  li'l 

accel.  ^  a  tempo, 


-e>- 


pp  colla 
voce. 


Copyright.  1902.  by  Martha  S.  Cielow. 


seemin',  In  de  smile  what  is  beamiif,  On  de  babe  dats  now  dieamin',  Fas'  er  - 


a  tempo 


Refrain.  accel.  ppp 
pp 


sleep  on  Mammy's  bres',     Go    to   sleep  li'l    ba  -  by,  Go    to  sleep,  li' 

"p^-^  8va   

_$g-  \m*i  ,4:g:  s  U^--h£L-& 


pp 


colla  voce. 


:±: 


1— 


acceZ.   rt  tempo. 


ba  -  by,  Go  to  sleep  on  Mammy's  bres'. 
,  loco. 


Go  to  sleep.  4—4. 


Go  ter  Sleep  on  Mammy's 
BreV 


WHEN  de  pine  trees  'gin  sighin' 
Ter  de  daylight  what's  dyin', 
Mammy's  baby  'gins  cryin' 
Fer  ter  rock  on  Mammy's  bre's'. 

Chorus. 
Go  ter  sleep,  li'l  ba-by, 
Go  ter  sleep,  li'l  ba-by, 
Go  ter  sleep  on  Mammy's  bre's'. 

When  de  moonlight  'gins  shinin' 
On  de  hearts  what  is  pinin', 
Mammy's  ba-by  'gins  whinin' 
Fer  ter  rock  on  Mammy's  bre's'. 

Chorus. 
Go  ter  sleep,  li'l  ba-by, 
Go  ter  sleep,  li'l  ba-by, 
Go  ter  sleep  on  Mammy's  bre's'. 

When  de  shadders  'gin  tallin' 
An'  de  jew-draps  'gin  fallin', 
Den  de  Angels  'gin  callin' 
Ter  de  lam'  on  Mammy's  bre's'. 

[  133  ] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


Chorus. 
Go  ter  sleep,  li'l  ba-by, 
Go  ter  sleep,  li'l  ba-by, 
Go  ter  sleep  on  Mammy's  bre's\ 

'Tis  de  Hebben-light  what's  seemin' 
In  de  smile  what  is  beamin' 
On  de  babe  dat's  now  dreamin', 
Fas'  er  sleep  on  Mammy's  breV. 

Chorus. 
Go  ter  sleep,  li'l  ba-by, 
Go  ter  sleep,  li'l  ba-by, 
Go  ter  sleep  on  Mammy's  bre's'. 


[  134] 


"Go  ter  sleep,  IV I  baby, 
Go  ter  sleep,  It  I  baby, 

Go  ter  sleep  on  Mammy's  bre's ' 


Mammy's  Luck  Charm  fer 
de  Bride 


^^-^Bl^l^l^^^l^^l^^^^^^^^^l^^^^^l^^^^^ll^ll^^^^ll^^^^^^^^^► 

Mammy's  Luck  Charm  fer 
de  Bride 

(Dedicated  to  a  Chicago  Bride.) 

HYAR,  honey,  take  dis  little  gif 
An'  place  it  nigh  yo'  heart, 
'Twill  keep  erway  dat  littP  rif ' 
What  causes  folks  ter  part. 

Hit's  only  des  er  rabbit-toe, 

But  den,  de  luck  it  brings 
Is  wuf  er  million  dimes  an'  mo' 

'An  all  de  weddin'  rings ! 

Be  sho'  you  wear  it  in  yo'  bre's', 

Pertic'lar  on  de  day 
De  preacher  come  ter  pray  an'  bless 

An'  jine  yo'  han's  ter  stay. 

Des'  keep  it,  honey,  an'  you'll  fine 

Hit  hoi's  er  magic  spell 
Ter  make  yo'  lover  true  an'  kine 

An'  han'some,  des  es  well. 

[137] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Er  rabbit  foot  what's  congered  right 

Lak  dis  un  is,  I  know, 
Will  make  you  always  glad  an'  bright 

An'  good  an'  putty,  sho\ 


[  138  ] 


Aig- Braid 


1JU1II1III1MBIII1I111IIIIMIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIH— I— IIW— —  J'  ~1_ 

Aig-Braid 


LAWD,  yassum,  dat's  what  Mistis  said, 
Dat  I  could  beat  'urn  all 
At  makin'  cms'  an'  biskit  braid. 
An'  rolls  what  wouldn't  fall. 

But  le'  me  tell  vou  what's  de  bes', 

Fer  eve'ybody  say 
Dat  breakfas'  aig-braid  beat  de  res' 

Fer  eatin'  any  day. 

Why,  chile,  hit  is  de  "  starff  uv  life," 

Dat  what  de  Good-book  tell, 
An'  eve'y  cook  what's  in  de  strife 

Will  say  so,  des  as  well. 

An'  you  does  s'prise  me  when  you  ax 

My  bes'  rerceep  fer  pies! 
Why,  honey,  hifalutin'  things 

Don'  never  take  no  prize! 

Dem  consequencious  puffs  an'  cakes 

Ain'  fltten  fer  ter  eat, 
An'  dem  presumious  tarts  I  bakes 

Is  too  pompacious  sweet. 

[141] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


Don'  ax  me  nuffin  'bout  sich  trash, 

Fer  Ps  er  higeen  cook 
An'  dat  assumious  puddin'  hash 

Is  only  fer  dey  look. 

Now  ef  you  wants  de  proper  dish 
Fer  healf  an'  tas'e  an'  ease, 

You'll  hab  de  aig-braid  fer  yo?  wish. 
An'  hit  will  sho'ly  please. 

You  takes  er  pint  uv  Injun  meal, 

An'  sif  it  in  er  pan, 
An'  add  er  pint  uv  buttermilk, 

An'  fo'  aigs — ef  you  can. 

Sometimes  I  uses  one  or  two, 

But  fo9  is  always  bes', 
An'  den  you  add  er  spoon  uv  lard, 

An'  stir  in  wid  de  res'. 

Er  cup  uv  hom'ly  what  is  cole 
Adds  might'ly  ter  de  tas'e, 

An'  he'ps  de  lightness,  so  I's  tele 
An'  saves  er  heap  uv  was'e. 

Er  pinch  uv  soda  in  er  spoon 
You  puts  in  wid  de  milk, 
[  142  ] 


AIG-BRAID 

An'  beat  it  well  till  ve'y  soon 
?Twill  seem  es  smoove  es  silk. 

You  heat  yo'  pan  twell  nice  an'  hot, 
An'  smear  it  well  wid  grease, 

(Er  spoon  uv  melted  lard  I  mean,) 
Ter  brown  dat  aig-braid  f  eas'. 

Hit  only  takes  er  little  while 
Ter  bake  it  well  an'  done, 

Des  twenty  minits  ter  er  smile, 
By  any  clock  dat's  run. 

An'  sich  er  breakf as'  you  will  hab, 
'Twill  fill  you  wid  surprise, 

An'  shame  dem  gim-crack  fancy  puffs, 
What's  aimin'  fer  de  prize. 

Dem  sickly,  sweet  usurpeous  pies, 
Dat  hashed  up  "  tuckle  "  stew, 

Dem  "  angel  cakes  "  I  sho'  despise, 
An'  "  Injun  puddin'  "  too. 

Des'  gi'  me  aig-braid  eve'y  time, 
Hit's  hardes',  too,  ter  make, 

An'  mighty  tick'lish,  you  will  fine, 
'Bout  sp'ilin'  in  de  bake. 

[  143  ] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Des'  gi'  me  aig-braid  eve'y  time, 
Des'  aig-braid  night  an'  day, 

Dat  braid  usurpeous  an'  fine, 
What's  come  ter  bide  an'  stay. 


[  144  ] 


De  Chris'mus  Baby 


De  Chris'mus  Baby 

Dedicated  to  Little  Robert  Joyce  Newhottse. 


H USHER-BY  an'  le5  me  sing 
Er  ole-time  song  uv  happy  joy, 
Fer  Santy  Claus  is  done  an5  bring 
Er  precious  li'l  baby  boy. 

Chorus. 

Halleluyah!  Le'  me  sing 

My  bes'  cosanthum,  des'  fer  joy, 

An'  let  dem  Chris'mus  chu'ch-bells  ring 
Fer  Mammy's  li'l  baby  boy. 

Husher-by,  you  blessed  chile, 

Go  right  ter  sleep,  go  right  ter  res', 
De  angels  up  in  Hebben  smile 

On  dy  sweet  face  on  Mammy's  breV. 

Chorus. 

Halleluyah!  Le'  me  sing 

My  bes9  cosanthum,  des'  fer  joy, 

An'  let  dem  Chris'mus  chu'ch-bells  ring 
Fer  Mammy's  li'l  baby  boy. 


[147] 


^gg«— — —  — ■— —  JtTT 

Little  Sweet  Ladie 


Little  Sweet  Ladie 


dedicated  to 
Little  Edith  Richmond  Barnard. 


S 


WEET  li'l  ladie, 

Expected  so  long, 
Come  le'  me  hoi'  you 

An'  sing  you  er  song  ; 
All  'bout  de  birdies 

Way  up  in  dey  nes', 
Sweet  li'l  ladie, 

Come  rock  on  my  bre's'. 

Sweet  li'l  ladie 

I'm  glad  you  is  here, 
You  is  so  precious, 

So  dainty  an'  dear, 
Des'  lak  de  birdies 

Way  up  in  de  nes', 
Sweet  li'l  ladie, 

Come  rock  on  my  bre's'. 

Sweet  li'l  ladie 

Wid  hebbenly  eyes, 
Smiles  lak  de  angels 

Way  up  in  de  skies, 
[151] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Come  coo  lak  de  birdies 
Way  up  in  dey  nes', 

Sweet  li'l  ladie, 

Come  coo  on  my  bre's\ 


[152] 


VW..  :  


On  My  Journey  Home 


On  My  Journey  Home 

MY  long  white  robe  come  down  ter  my  toes, 
I'm  on  my  journey  home. 
My  long  white  robe  come  down  ter  my 
toes, 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

Chorus, 

Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey,  journey  home, 
Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

Er  hebbenly  crown  is  on  my  haid, 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 
Er  hebbenly  crown  is  on  my  haid, 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

Chorus. 

Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey,  journey  home, 
Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

[155] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Er  golden  harp  is  in  my  han', 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 
Er  golden  harp  is  in  my  han', 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

Chorus. 

Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey,  journey  home, 
Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

I'll  reach  dat  blessed  res'  at  las', 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 
De  Saviour,  he  will  hoi'  me  fas', 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

Chorus. 

Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey,  journey  home, 
Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

Come  shout,  you  Christians,  you  is  free, 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 
Er  starry  crown  fer  you  an'  me, 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 

[156] 


ON  MY  JOURNEY  HOME 

Chorus. 
Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey,  journey  home. 
Hail!    Hail!  Hail! 

I'm  on  my  journey  home. 


[157] 


X    LWI— "■■■I  I  ■IIIHIMIW—IIMIMIWIIMI^MIIHIIBIWII—  » P II  J.  _ 

T'C.C  ,  

Come  Ring  dem  Charmm' 
Bells 


Come  Ring  dem  Charmin' 
Bells 


I'M  goin'  home  ter  die  no  mo', 
I'm  goin'  home  ter  die  no  mo', 
I'm  goin'  home  ter  die  no  mo', 
An'  ter  ring  dem  charmin'  bells. 

0 !  Come,  my  brothers, 

Ef  you  wants  ter  git  ter  Hebben 
Fer  ter  ring  dem  charmin'  bells. 

0 !  Come,  my  fr'en's,  an'  go  wid  me, 
Come,  my  fr'en's,  an'  go  wid  me, 
0 !  Come,  my  fr'en's,  an'  go  wid  me, 
Fer  ter  ring  dem  charmin'  bells. 

O!  Come,  my  sisters, 

Ef  you  wants  ter  git  ter  Hebben 
Fer  ter  ring  dem  charmin'  bells. 

0 !  Won't  you  come  an'  go  wid  me, 
Won't  you  come  an'  go  wid  me, 
0 !  Won't  you  come  an'  go  wid  me, 
Fer  ter  ring  dem  charmin'  bells. 

[161] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

Come,  my  chillun, 

Ef  you  wants  ter  git  ter  Hebben 
Per  ter  ring  dem  charmin'  bells. 


[162] 


Wheel  in  de  Middle  o'  de 
Wheel 


Wheel  in  de  Middle  o' 
Wheel 


WE  see  Zek'l  prophetsy, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 
We  see  Zek'l  prophetsy, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Chorus. 

O !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 
0 !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Zek'l  'clar  he  saw  de  wheel, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Gre't  big  wheel  an'  a  little  bit  o'  wheel, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 


O !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 
0 !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Eve'y  spoke  wuz  human  kine, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Eve'y  spoke  wuz  human  kine, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 


0 !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 
0 !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 


Chorus. 


Chorus. 


[165] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


In  de  valley,  'mongst  dem  bones, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel, 

In  de  valley,  'mongst  dem  bones, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Chorus. 

O !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 
O !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Zek'l  say  will  dese  bones  live? 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Zek'l  say  will  dese  bones  live? 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Chorus. 

O !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 
O !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Lawd,  my  Lawd,  yas,  You  do  know, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel, 

Ef  dese  bones  will  rise  er  no, 
Wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 

Chorus. 

O !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 
O !  wheel,  wheel  in  de  middle  o'  de  wheel. 


[166] 


Plantation  Funeral  Song 


Plantation  Funeral  Song 


-1-  ▼       My  li'l  ba-by  is  gone, 
Let  us  j'ine  de  social  ban'. 

Go  all  roun'  an'  j'ine  de  army, 
Go  all  roun'  an'  j'ine  de  army, 

Go  all  roun'  an'  j'ine  de  army, 
Let  us  j'ine  de  social  ban'. 

Chorus. 
My  li'l  ba-by  is  gone, 

Is  gone,  is  gone ! 
My  li'l  ba-by  is  gone, 

Let  us  j'ine  de  social  ban'. 

We'll  see  'im  ergin  on  Canaan's  sho', 
We'll  see  'im  ergin  on  Canaan's  sho', 

We'll  see  'im  ergin  on  Canaan's  sho', 
Let  us  j'ine  de  social  ban'. 


Y  li'l  ba-by  is  gone, 
Is  gone,  is  gone ! 


Chorus. 


My  li'l  ba-by  is  gone, 

Is  gone,  is  gone ! 
My  li'l  ba-by  is  gone, 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


He'll  git  ter  Hebben  an'  tell  de  news, 
He'll  git  ter  Hebben  an'  tell  de  news, 

He'll  git  ter  Hebben  an'  tell  de  news, 
Let  us  j'ine  de  social  ban'. 

Chorus. 

My  li'l  ba-by  is  gone, 

Is  gone,  is  gone! 
My  li'l  ba-by  is  gone, 

Let  us  j'ine  de  social  ban'. 


[170] 


Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  Lobely 


Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  Lobely 


DE  king  uv  de  Jews  he  wuz  Phareo, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 
Moses  begged  dat  de  Jews  might  go, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

Chorus, 
Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 
Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

Phareo  would  not  set  dem  free, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

Followed  dem  ter  dat  Red  Sea, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

Chorus, 
Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 
Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

De  Jews  dey  went  thoo  de  sea  dry  shod, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

Phareo  was  drownded  by  de  han'  of  God, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white  ! 
[173] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


Chorus. 

Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 
Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

De  Jews  dey  wuz  a  stubbin  race, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

De  Lawd  f 'um  dem  did  hide  his  face, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

Chorus. 

Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 
Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

Fifty  yeahs  in  de  wilderness, 
See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white! 
Moses  an'  de  J ews  did  res', 

See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 

Chorus. 

Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 
Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

Oh,  Lawd,  ain'  dem  lobely, 

See  all  dem  angels  robed  in  white ! 
[174] 


Oh,  Ma'y,  don'  you  Weep 


Oh,  Ma'y,  don'  you  Weep 

MA'Y  wo'  de  golden  chain, 
Eve'y  link  wuz  Jesus'  name, 
Phareo's  army  got  drownded, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep. 

Chorus. 

An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep  an'  don'  you  moan, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep  o'er  de  Lawd, 

Phareo's  army  got  drownded, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep. 

Jesus  rode  de  horse  uv  death, 

Eighteen  arrows  in  his  bre's', 
Phareo's  army  got  drownded, 

An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep. 

Chorus, 

An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep  an'  don'  you  moan, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep  o'er  de  Lawd, 

Phareo's  army  got  drownded, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep. 

Holy  Ghos',  Holy  Ghos',  talkin'  in  de  air, 

Holy  Ghos',  Holy  Ghos',  ter  talk  it  out  fair, 

Phareo's  army  got  drownded, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep. 

[177] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 


Chorus. 

An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep  an'  don'  you  moan, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep  o'er  de  Lawd, 

Phareo's  army  got  drownded, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep. 

Moses,  take  yo'  shoes  off  an'  hide  yo'  face, 
De  groun'  whar  you  stan'in's  er  holy  place, 

Phareo's  army  got  drownded, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep. 

Chorus. 

An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep  an'  don'  you  moan, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep  o'er  de  Lawd, 

Phareo's  army  got  drownded, 
An'  Ma'y,  don'  you  weep. 


[178] 


Note  by  the  Author 


Note  by  the  Author 


IN  writing  the  dialect  of  Old  Plantation  Days 
I  have  endeavored  to  make  the  spelling  as  sim- 
ple as  possible,  so  that  it  may  be  read  more 
easily  by  those  unacquainted  with  the  "  Mammy  " 
tongue. 

While  I  am  aware  that  the  abbreviation  of  words 
ending  in  "  d  "  is  mostly  used  and  is  mainly  cor- 
rect, it  is  nevertheless  less  expressive  to  those  unac- 
quainted with  the  pronunciation  of  the  dialect  than 
the  substitution  of  the  letter  "  e,"  and  not  so  easy 
or  helpful  to  those  who  are;  nor  do  the  words  cut 
off  with  an  apostrophe  convey  to  the  mind  of  the 
reader  that  soft,  indefinable  drawl  which  we  are  en- 
deavoring to  reproduce  and  which,  after  all,  is  the 
chief  charm  of  the  dialect,  as  in  the  sound  of  a  word 
ended  with  the  "  e." 

For  instance,  "  child  "  abbreviated  "  chil' 99  looks 
like  "  chill; 99  and  "  mind,"  "  min',"  like  "  minn; 99 
and  "bind,"  "bin',"  like  "binn;"  "blind," 
"  blinV  like  "  blinn,"  "  cold,"  "  col',"  like  "  coll," 
etc.,  etc.,  and,  unless  the  reader  is  perfectly  famil- 
iar with  the  dialect,  the  sweet,  tender  cadence  is 
necessarily  lost. 

[181] 


OLD  PLANTATION  DAYS 

To  me  the  "  e  "  sound  is  so  perceptible  in  the 
spoken  language  that  I  find  when  writing  it  that 
my  pen  glides  unconsciously  into  putting  the  "  e  " 
in  the  place  of  the  "d" — that  the  words  should  look 
as  they  sound.  Yes,  the  rhythm  of  the  accent 
seems  to  speak  out  to  me  from  the  very  pages  as  I 
write,  and  I  seem  to  hear  the  lingering  softness  of 
my  Mammy's  voice  as  distinctly  as  the  memory  of 
a  note  of  music  held  in  pressure  with  the  soft 
pedal,  "  Gard  bless  dat  chile."  The  "  e,"  there- 
fore, seems  indispensable  to  me. 

Having  studied  the  language  very  thoroughly 
both  from  nature  and  under  the  guidance  of  Mr. 
Henry  Gaines  Hawn,  to  whose  competent  instruc- 
tion I  owe  my  success  as  an  interpreter  and  reader, 
I  feel  justified  in  writing  my  dialect  as  simply  as  I 
have  endeavored  to  speak  it  from  the  platform.  I 
try  never  to  misspell  a  word  unnecessarily,  and 
while  I  sometimes  use  "  des  99  and  then  "  jes  99  in  the 
same  page,  and  am,  therefore,  seemingly  not  always 
uniform  in  spelling  of  the  same  word,  I  am  never- 
theless writing  it  as  I  speak  it  in  recitation,  true  to 
nature,  for  the  negro  changes  from  "  des "  to 
"  jes  99  as  often  and  unconsciously  as  the  euphony 
of  the  word  seems  most  agreeable  to  the  ear.  Plan- 
tation dialect,  as  heard  from  the  lips  of  the  Mam- 
[182] 


NOTE  BY  THE  AUTHOR 

my  now  passing,  will  soon  be  a  dead  language; 
the  musical  rhythm  and  tender  pathos  we  shall  try 
in  vain  to  reproduce.  Hence  my  desire  to  put  as 
much  of  the  tone  into  each  word  of  my  written  in- 
terpretations as  can  be  conveyed  by  the  method  of 
simple  spelling.  Again  I  would  like  to  explain  to 
my  readers,  that  the  negro  race  is  the  most  relig- 
ious of  all  people,  and  that  their  constant  use  of 
the  Lord's  name  is  neither  disrespectful  nor  irrelig- 
ious— but  comes  from  their  daily  familiarity  of 
appealing  to  Him  as  a  person  ever  present  to  hear 
and  see  their  joys,  their  woes,  and  their  prayers. 

Martha  S.  Gielow. 


[183] 


Date  Due 


8ARAug72 

Jail  22*35  P 

OApRCj  wn 

\jMi\r\LL  lw 

1  

 1 

